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ONE OF CLEOPATRA’S NICHTS 


AND 


OTHER FANTASTIC ROMANCES. 


BY 


THÉOPHILE GAUTIER. 

|l 


FAITHFULLY TRANSLATED BY LAFCADIO HEARN 

y 



CONTENTS 


One of Cleopatra’s Nights. 

Clarimonde. 

Arria Marcella : A Souvenir of Pompeii. 
The Mummy’s Foot. 

Omphale : A Rococo Story. 

King Candaules. 



NEW YORK 

WORTHINGTON CO., 747 BROADWAY 


1888 



NEW YORK 



Copyrighted, 1882. 
tSY R. WORTHINGTON. 



076CH 


The love that caught strange light from death's 
own eyes , 

And filled death's lips with fiery words and sighs , 

And half asleep , let feed from veins of his , 

Her close red warm snake s-mouth, Egyptian - 
wise : 

And that great night of love more strange than 
thisy 

When she that made the whole world's bale and 
bliss 

Made king of the whole world's desire a 
slave 

And killed him in mid-kingdom with a kiss . 

Swinburne. 

“Memorial verses on the death of Théophile Gautier S* 


( 3 ) 


























TO THE READER, 


The stories composing this volume have been selected 
for translation from the two volumes of romances and 
tales by Théophile Gautier, respectively entitled, Nou- 
velles and Romans et Contes. They afford in the orig- 
inal many excellent examples of that peculiar beauty of 
fancy and power of painting with words, which made 
Gautier the most brilliant literary artist of his time. No 
doubt their warmth of coloring has been impoverished 
and their fantastic enchantment weakened by the process 
of transformation into a less voluptuous tongue; yet 
enough of the original charm remains, we trust, to con- 
vey a just idea of the French author’s rich imaginative 
power and ornate luxuriance of style. 

The verses of Swinburne referring to the witchery of 
the novelette which opens the volume, and to the pecu- 
liarly sweet and strange romance which follows, suffi- 
ciently indicate the extraordinary art of these tales. 
At least three of the stories we have attempted to 
translate rank among the riiost remarkable literary pro- 
ductions of the century. 

These little romances are characterized, however, by 
merits other than those of mere literary workmanship : — 
they are further remarkable for a wealth of erudition — 
picturesque learning, we might say, — which often lends 
them an actual archæologic value, like the paintings of 
some scholarly artist, some Alma Tadema, who with fair 

(v) 


VI 


TO THE READER. 


magic of color-blending evokes for us eidolons of ages 
vanished and civilizations passed away. 

Thus one finds in the delightful fantasy of Arria 
Marcella not only a dream of “ Pompeiian Days,” pic- 
tured with an idealistic brilliancy beyond the art of Coo- 
mans, but a rich knowledge, likewise, of all that fascinat- 
ing lore gleaned by antiquarian research amid the ashes 
of the sepultured city — a knowledge enriched in no 
small degree by local study, and presented with a de- 
scriptive power finely strengthened by personal obser- 
vation. It is something more than the charming im- 
agination of a poetic dreamer which paints for us the 
blue sea “ unrolling its long volutes of foam” upon a 
beach as black and smooth as sifted charcoal ; the fis- 
sured summit of Vesuvius, out-pouring white threads of 
smoke from its crannies “as from the orifices of a per- 
fuming pan;” — and the far-purple hills “with outlines 
voluptuously undulating, like the hips of a woman.” 

And throughout these romances one finds the same 
evidences of archæologic study, of artistic observation, 
of imagination fostered by picturesque fact. The glory 
of the Greek kings of Lydia glows goldenly again in 
the pages of Le Roi Candaule ; the massive gloom and 
melancholy weirdness of ancient Egypt is reflected as 
in a necromancer’s mirror throughout Une Nuit de Cleo- 
pâtre. It is in the Egyptian fantasies, perhaps, that the 
author’s peculiar descriptive skill appears to most advan- 
tage ; the still-fresh hues of the hierophantic paintings, 
the pictured sarcophagi and the mummy-gilding, seem 
to meet the reader’s eye with the gratification of their 
bright contrasts; a faint perfume of unknown balm 
seems to hover over the open pages; and mysterious 
sphinxes appear to look on “ with that undefinable rose- 
granite smile that mocks our modern wisdom.” 


TO THE READER. 


vil 


Excepting Omphale and La Morte Amor eus e , the 
stories selected for translation are mostly antique in 
composition and coloring, the former being Louis- 
Quinze, the latter medieval rather than aught else. 
But all alike frame some exquisite delineation of young 
love-fancies — some admirable picture of what Gautier 
in the Histoire du Romantisme has prettily termed 
“ the graceful succubi that haunt the happy slumbers of 
youth.” 

And what dreamful student of the Beautiful has not 
been once enamored of an Arria Marcella, and wor- 
shiped on the altar of his heart those ancient gods 
“who loved life and youth and beauty and pleasure”? — 
how many a lover of medieval legend has in fancy glad- 
ly bartered the blood of his veins for some phantom 
Clarimonde ? — what true artist has not at some time been 
haunted by the image of a Nyssia, fairer than all daugh- 
ters of men, lovelier than all fantasies realized in stone 
— a Pygmalion-wrought marble transmuted by divine 
alchemy to a being of opalescent flesh and ichor-throb- 
bing veins ? 

Gautier was an artist in the common acceptation of 
the term, as well as a poet and a writer of romance ; and 
in those pleasant fragments of autobiography scattered 
through the Histoire du Romantisme we find his aver- 
ment that at the commencement of the Romantic move- 
ment of 1830 he was yet undecided whether to adopt 
literature or art as a profession; but, finding it “easier 
to paint with words than with colors,” he finally decided 
upon the pen as his weapon in the new warfare against 
“the hydra of classicism with its hundred peruked 
heads.” As a writer, however, he remained the artist 
still : his pages were pictures, his sentences touches of 
color; he learned indeed to “paint with words” as no 


TO THE TEA DEE. 


viii 


other writer of the century has done, and created a pow- 
erful impression not only upon the literature of his 
day, but even, it may be said, upon the language of his 
nation. 

Possessed of an almost matchless imaginative power, 
and a sense of beauty as refined as that of an antique 
sculptor, Gautier so perfects his work as to leave nothing 
for the imagination of his readers to desire. He insists 
that they should behold the author’s fancy precisely as 
the author himself fancied it with all its details: — the 
position of objects, the effects of light, the disposition 
of shadow, the material of garments, the texture of 
stuffs, the interstices of stonework, the gleam of a lamp 
upon sharp angles of furniture, the whispering sound of 
trailing silk, the tone of a voice, the expression of a face, 
— all is visible, audible, tangible. You can find nothing in 
one of his picturesque scenes which has not been treated 
with a studied accuracy of minute detail that leaves no 
vacancy for the eye to light upon, — no hiatus for the 
imagination to supply. This is the art of painting car- 
ried to the highest perfection in literature. It is not 
wonderful that such a man should at times sacrifice 
style to description ; and he has himself acknowledged an 
occasional abuse of violent coloring. 

Naturally a writer of this kind pays small regard to 
the demands of prudery. His work being that of the 
artist, he claims the privilege of the sculptor and the 
painter in delineations of the beautiful. A perfect hu- 
man body is to him the most beautiful of objects : he 
does not seek to vail its loveliness with cumbrous drap- 
ery ; he delights to behold it and depict it in its “ divine 
nudity ” ; he views it with the eyes of the Corinthian 
statuary or the Pompeiian fresco-painter ; he idealizes 
even the ideal of beauty : under his treatment flesh be- 


TO THE READER. 


IX 


comes diaphanous, eyes are transformed to orbs of pris- 
matic light, features take tints of celestial loveliness. 
Like the Hellenic sculptor, he is not satisfied with 
beauty of form alone, but must add a vital glow of deli- 
cate coloring to the white limbs and snowy bosom of 
marble. 

It is the artist, therefore, who must judge of Gautier’s 
creations. To the lovers of the loveliness of the an- 
tique world, the lovers of physical beauty and artistic 
truth, — of the charm of youthful dreams and young 
passion in its blossoming, — of poetic ambitions and the 
sweet pantheism that finds all Nature vitalized by the 
Spirit of the Beautiful, — to such the first English ver- 
sion of these graceful fantasies is offered in the hope 
that it may not be found wholly unworthy of the orig- 
inal. 

New Orleans, 1882. 


L.H. 











































* 









ONE OF CLEOPATRA’S NIGHTS. 


CHAPTER I. 

Nineteen hundred years ago from the date of 
this writing, a magnificently gilded and painted 
cangia was descending the Nile as rapidly as fifty 
long flat oars, which seemed to crawl over the 
furrowed water like the legs of a gigantic scara- 
bæus, could impel it. 

This cangia was narrow, long, elevated at both 
ends in the form of a new moon, elegantly pro- 
portioned, and admirably built for speed ; the fig- 
ure of a ram’s head, surmounted by a golden 
globe, armed the point of the prow, showing that 
the vessel belonged to some personage of royal 
blood. 

In the center of the vessel arose a flat-roofed 
cabin, — a sort of naos , or tent of honor, colored 
and gilded, ornamented with palm-leaf moldings, 
and lighted by four little square windows. 


2 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


Two chambers, both decorated with hiero- 
glyphic paintings, occupied the horns of the 
crescent One of thëm, the larger, had a second 
story of lesser height built upon it — like the 
chateaux gaillards of those fantastic galleys of 
the sixteenth century, drawn by Della-Bella ; the 
other and smaller chamber, which also served as 
a pilot-house, was surmounted with a triangular 
pediment. 

In lieu of a rudder, two immense oars, ad- 
justed upon stakes decorated with stripes of 
paint, which served in place of our modern row- 
locks, — extended into the water in rear of the 
vessel like the webbed feet of a swan; heads 
crowned with pshents and bearing the allegorical 
horn upon their chins, were sculptured upon 
the handles of these huge oars, which were ma- 
noeuvred by the pilot as he stood upon the deck 
of the cabin above. 

He was a swarthy man, tawny as new bronze, 
with bluish surface gleams playing over his dark 
skin, long oblique eyes, hair deeply black and all 
plaited into little cords, full lips, high cheek- 
bones, ears standing out from the skull — the 
Egyptian type in all its purity. A narrow strip 
of cotton about his loins, together with five or 
six strings of glass beads, and a few amulets, com- 
prised his whole costume. 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


3 


He appeared to be the only one on board the 
cangia; for the rowers bending over their oars, 
and concealed from view by the gunwales, made 
their presence known only through the symmetri- 
cal movements of the oars themselves, which 
spread open alternately on either side of the ves- 
sel, like the ribs of a fan, and fell regularly back 
into the water after a short pause. 

Not a breath of air was stirring; and the great 
triangular sail of the cangia, tied up and bound 
to the lowered mast with a silken cord, testified 
that all hope of the wind rising had been aban- 
doned. 

The noonday sun shot his arrows perpendicu- 
larly from above ; the ashen-hued slime of the 
river banks reflected the fiery glow ; a raw light, 
glaring and blinding in its intensity, poured down 
in torrents of flame ; the azure of the sky whitened 
in the heat as a metal whitens in the furnace ; an 
ardent and lurid fog smoked in the horizon. Not 
a cloud appeared in the sky — a sky mournful and 
changeless as Eternity. 

The water of the Nile, sluggish and wan, 
seemed to slumber in its course, and slowly ex- 
tend itself in sheets of molten tin. No breath of 
air wrinkled its surface, or bowed down upon 
their stalks the cups of the lotus-flowers, as rig- 


4 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


idly motionless as though sculptured ; at long in- 
tervals the leap of a bechir or fabaka expanding 
its belly, scarcely caused a silvery gleam upon the 
current ; and the oars of the cangia seemed with 
difficulty to tear their way through the fuliginous 
film of that curdled water. The banks were 
desolate, a solemn and mighty sadness weighed 
upon this land, which was never aught else than 
a vast tomb, and in which the living appeared to 
be solely occupied in the work of burying the 
dead. It was an arid sadness, dry as pumice 
stone, without melancholy, without reverie, with- 
out one pearly grey cloud to follow toward the 
horizon, one secret spring wherein to lave one’s 
dusty feet ; the sadness of a sphinx weary of eter- 
nally gazing upon the desert, and unable to de- 
tach herself from the granite socle upon which 
she has sharpened her claws for twenty centuries. 

So profound was the silence that it seemed as 
though the world had become dumb, or that the 
air had lost all power of conveying sound. The 
only noises which could be heard at intervals were 
the whisperings and stifled “ chuckling ” of the 
crocodiles, which, enfeebled by the heat, were wal- 
lowing among the bullrushes by the river banks ; 
or the sound made by some ibis, which — tired 
of standing with one leg doubled up against its 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


5 


stomach, and its head sunk between its shoulders, 
— suddenly abandoned its motionless attitude, and 
brusquely whipping the blue air with its white 
wings, flew off to perch upon an obelisk or a 
palm-tree. 

The cangia flew like an arrow over the smooth 
river-water, leaving behind it a silvery wake which 
soon disappeared ; and only a few foam-bubbles 
rising to break at the surface of the stream bore 
testimony to the passage of the vessel, then al- 
ready out of sight. 

The ochre-hued or salmon-colored banks un- 
rolled themselves rapidly like scrolls of papyrus 
between the double azure of water and sky — so 
similar in tint that the slender tongue of earth 
which separated them, seemed like a causeway 
stretching over an immense lake, and that it would 
have been difficult to determine whether the Nile 
reflected the sky, or whether the sky reflected the 
Nile. 

The scene continually changed: at one mo- 
ment were visible gigantic propylæa, whose slop- 
ing walls, painted with large panels of fantastic 
figures, were mirrored in the river ; pylons with 
broad-bulging capitals ; stairways guarded by 
huge crouching sphinxes, wearing caps with lap- 
pets of many folds, and crossing their paws of 


6 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


black basalt below their sharply projecting breasts ; 
palaces, immeasurably vast, projecting against the 
horizon the severe horizontal lines of their en- 
tablatures, where the emblematic globe unfolded 
its mysterious wings like an eagle’s vast-extend- 
ing pinions ; temples with enormous columns 
thick as towers, on which were limned proces- 
sions of hieroglyphic figures against a back 
ground of brilliant white ; all the monstrosities of 
that Titanic architecture. Again the eye beheld 
only landscapes of desolate aridity: — hills formed 
of stony fragments from excavations and building 
works, — crumbs of that gigantic debauch of gran- 
ite which lasted for more than thirty centuries ; 
mountains exfoliated by heat, and mangled and 
striped with black lines which seemed like the 
cauterizations of a conflagration ; hillocks humped 
and deformed, squatting like the criocephalus of 
the tombs, and projecting the outlines of their 
misshapen attitude against the sky-line ; expanses 
of greenish clay, reddle, flour-white tufa, and from 
time to time some steep cliff of dry rose-colored 
granite, where yawned the black mouths of the 
stone quarries. 

This aridity was wholly unrelieved ; no oasis 
of foilage refreshed the eye ; green seemed to be 
a color unknown to that nature ; only some 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


7 


meagre palm-tree, like a vegetable crab, appeared 
from time to time in the horizon, — or a thorny fig- 
tree brandished its tempered leaves like sword 
blades of bronze, — or a carthamus-plant, which 
had found a little moisture to live upon in the 
shadow of some fragment of a broken column, 
relieved the general uniformity with a speck of 
crimson. 

After this rapid glance at the aspect of the 
landscape, let us return to the cangia with its fifty 
rowers, and without announcing ourselves, enter 
boldly into the naos of honor. 

The interior was painted white with green ara- 
besques, bands of vermillion, and gilt flowers fan- 
tastically shaped ; an exceedingly fine rush matting 
covered the floor ; at the further end stood a little 
bed, supported upon griffin’s feet — having a back 
resembling that of a modern lounge or sofa, a 
stool with four steps to enable one to climb into 
bed, and ( rather an odd luxury according to our 
ideas of comfort ! ) a sort of hémicycle of cedar 
wood, supported upon a single leg, and designed 
to fit the nape of the neck so as to support the 
head of the person reclining. 

Upon this strange pillow reposed a most charm- 
ing head, — one look of which once caused the loss 
of half-a-world, — an adorable, a divine head ; the 


8 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


head of the most perfect woman that ever lived, — 
the most womanly and most queenly of all women ; 
an admirable type of beauty which the imagina- 
tion of poets could never invest with any new 
grace, and which dreamers will find forever in the 
depths of their dreams : it is not necessary to 
name Cleopatra. 

Beside her stood her favorite slave Charmion, 
waving a large fan of ibis feathers ; and a young 
girl was moistening with scented water the little 
reed blinds attached to the windows of the naos, 
so that the air might only enter impregnated with 
fresh odors. 

Near the bed of repose, in a striped vase of 
alabaster with a slender neck and a peculiarly 
elegant, tapering shape — vaguely recalling the 
form of a heron, — was placed a bouquet of 
lotus-flowers, some of a celestial blue, others of a 
tender rose-color, like the finger-tips of Isis, the 
great goddess. 

Either from caprice or policy, Cleopatra did not 
wear the Greek dress that day : she had just at- 
tended a panegyris,* and was returning to her 

* Panegyris ; pi., panegyreis , — from the Greek navÿyvpiç , — signifies 
the meeting of a whole people to worship at a common sanctuary 
or participate in a national religious festival. The assemblies at the 
Olympic, Pythian, Nemean, or Isthmian games were in this sense pane- 
gyreis. See Smith’s Diet. Antiq. — [Trans. 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


9 


summer palace still clad in the Egyptian costume 
she had worn at the festival. 

Perhaps our fair readers will feel curious to 
know how Queen Cleopatra was attired on her 
return from the Mammisi of Hermonthis whereat 
were worshiped the holy triad of the god Mandou, 
the goddess Ritho, and their son, Harphra: 
luckily we are able to satisfy them in this regard. 

For headdress Queen Cleopatra wore a kind of 
very light helmet of beaten gold, fashioned in the 
form of the body and wings of the sacred partridge : 
the wings, opening downward like fans, covered 
the temples, and extending below almost to the 
neck, left exposed on either side through a small 
aperture, an ear rosier and more delicately curled 
than the shell whence arose that Venus whom the 
Egyptians named Athor; — the tail of the bird 
occupied that place where our women wear their 
chignons : its body, covered with imbricated feath- 
ers, and painted in variegated enamel, concealed 
the upper part of the head ; and its neck, gracefully 
curving forward over the forehead of the wearer, 
formed together with its little head a kind of horn 
-shaped ornament, all sparkling with precious 
stones ; — a symbolic crest designed like a tower, 
completed this odd but elegant headdress. Hair 
dark as a starless night, flowed from beneath this 
helmet, and streamed in long tresses over the fair 


10 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


shoulders whereof the commencement only, alas ! 
was left exposed by a collerette or gorget adorned 
with many rows of serpentine stones, azodrachs, 
and chrysoberyls ; a linen robe diagonally cut, — 
a mist of material, of woven air, ventus textilis 
as Petronius says, — undulated in vapory white- 
ness about a lovely body, whose outlines it scarcely 
shaded with the softest shading. This robe had 
half-sleeves, tight at the shoulder, but widening 
toward the elbows like our manches-à-sabot , and 
permitting a glimpse of an adorable arm and a 
perfect hand; — the arm being clasped by six 
golden bracelets, and the hand adorned with a 
ring representing the sacred scarabæus. A girdle 
whose knotted ends hung down in front, confined 
this free-floating tunic at the waist ; a short cloak 
adorned with fringing completed the costume ; 
and if a few barbarous words will not frighten 
Parisian ears, we might add that the robe was 
called schenti and the short cloak calisiris. 

Finally we may observe that Queen Cleopatra 
wore very thin light sandals, turned up at the 
toes, and fastened over the instep, like the souliers- 
Of-la-poulaine of the mediaeval chatelaines. 

But Queen Cleopatra did not wear that air of 
satisfaction which becomes a woman conscious of 
being perfectly beautiful and perfectly well 
dressed : she tossed and turned in her little bed ; 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


II 


and her rather sudden movements momentarily 
disarranged the folds of her gauzy conopeum 
which Charmion as often rearranged with inex- 
haustible patience, and without ceasing to wave 
her fan. 

“ This room is stifling,” said Cleopatra; — “ even 
if Pthah the God of Fire established his forges 
in here, he could not make it hotter : the air is 
like the breath of a furnace !” And she moistened 
her lips with the tip of her little tongue; and 
stretched out her hand like a feverish patient seek- 
ing an absent cup. 

Charmion, ever attentive, at once clapped her 
hands; a black slave clothed in a short tunic hang- 
ing in folds like an Albanian petticoat, and a pan- 
ther-skin thrown over his shoulders, entered with 
the suddenness of an apparition ; with his left hand 
balancing a tray laden with cups and slices of 
water-melon, and carrying in his right a long vase 
with a spout like a modern teapot. 

The slave filled one of these cups, — pouring 
the liquor into it from a considerable height with 
marvelous dexterity, — and placed it before the 
queen. Cleopatra merely touched the beverage 
with her lips, laid the cup down beside her, and 
turning upon Charmion her beautiful liquid black 
eyes, lustrous with living light, exclaimed : 

“ O, Charmion, I am weary unto death ! ” 


CHAPTER II. 


Charmion, at once anticipating a confidence, 
assumed a look of pained sympathy, and drew 
nearer to her mistress. 

“ I am horribly weary ! ” continued Cleopatra, 
letting her arms fall like one utterly discouraged; 
— “ this Egypt crushes, annihilates me ; this sky 
with its implacable azure is sadder than the deep 
night of Erebus, — never a cloud ! never a shadow, 
and always that red sanguine sun which glares 
down upon you like the eye of a Cyclops. Ah, 
Charmion, I would give a pearl for one drop of 
rain ! From the inflamed pupil of that sky of 
bronze no tear has ever yet fallen upon the deso- 
lation of this land ; it is only a vast covering for 
a tomb, — the dome of a necropolis, — a sky dead 
and dried up like the mummies it hangs over ; it 
weighs upon my shoulders like an over-heavy 
mantle ; it constrains and terrifies me ; it seems 
to me that I could not stand up erect without 
striking my forehead against it. And, moreover, 
this land is truly an awful land ; — all things in it 
are gloomy, enigmatic, incomprehensible ! Im- 

(12) 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


13 


agination has produced in it only monstrous 
chimeræ and monuments immeasurable ; this 
architecture and this art fill me with fear ; those 
colossi, whose stone-entangled limbs compel them 
to remain eternally sitting with their hands upon 
their knees, weary me with their stupid immobil- 
ity, — they trouble my eyes and my horizon. 
When indeed shall the giant come who is to take 
them by the hand and relieve them from their 
long watch of twenty centuries? For even gran- 
ite itself must grow weary at last ! Of what mas- 
ter, then, do they await the coming, to leave their 
mountain-seats and rise in token of respect ? of 
what invisible flock are those huge sphinxes the 
guardians, crouching like dogs on the watch, that 
they never close their eye-lids and forever extend 
their claws in readiness to seize ? why are their 
stony eyes so obstinately fixed upon eternity and 
infinity? what weird secret do their firmly locked 
lips retain within their breasts ? On the right 
hand, on the left, whithersoever one turns, only 
frightful monsters are visible, — dogs with the 
heads of men ; men with the heads of dogs ; 
chimæras begotten of hideous couplings in the 
shadowy depths of the labyrinths ; figures of 
Anubis, Typhon, Osiris ; partridges with great 
yellow eyes that seem to pierce through you with 


14 


ONE OF CLE OP A TEA’S NIGHTS. 


their inquisitorial gaze, and see beyond and be- 
hind you things which one dare not speak of, — a 
family of animals and horrible gods with scaly 
wings, hooked beaks, trenchant claws, — ever ready 
to seize and devour you should you venture to 
cross the threshhold of the temple, or lift a cor- 
ner of the veil. 

“ Upon the walls, upon the columns ; on the 
ceilings, on the floors ; upon palaces and temples ; 
in the long passages and the deepest pits of 
the necropoli, — even within the bowels of the 
earth where light never comes, and where 
the flames of the torches die for want of air; 
for ever and everywhere are sculptured and 
painted interminable hieroglyphics, telling in 
language unintelligible of things which are no 
longer known, and which belong, doubtless, to the 
vanished creations of the past; — prodigious buried 
works wherein a whole nation was sacrificed to 
write the epitaph of one king! Mystery and 
granite! — this is Egypt; truly a fair land for a 
young woman, and a young queen ! 

“ Menacing and funereal symbols alone meet 
the eye, — the emblems of th z pedum, the tau , al- 
legorical globes, coiling serpents, and the scales 
in which souls are weighed, — the Unknown, 
death, nothingness ! In the place of any vegeta- 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


15 


tion only steles limned with weird characters ; in- 
stead of avenues of trees avenues of granite obe- 
lisks ; in lieu of soil vast pavements of granite for 
which whole mountains could each furnish but 
one slab; in place of a sky ceilings of granite; — 
eternity made palpable, — a bitter and everlast- 
ing sarcasm upon the frailty and brevity of life ! 
— stairways built only for the limbs of Titans, 
which the human foot cannot ascend save by 
the aid of ladders ; columns that a hundred arms 
cannot encircle ; labyrinths in which one might 
travel for years without discovering the termina- 
tion ! — the vertigo of enormity, — the drunken- 
ness of the gigantic, — the reckless efforts of that 
pride which would at any cost engrave its name 
deeply upon the face of the world ! 

“ And, moreover, Charmion, I tell you a 
thought haunts me which terrifies me: — in other 
lands of the earth, corpses are burned, and their 
ashes soon mingle with the soil. Here, it is said 
that the living have no other occupation than 
that of preserving the dead ; potent balms save 
them from destruction ; the remains endure after 
the soul has evaporated ; — beneath this people lie 
twenty peoples; — each city stands upon twenty 
layers of necropoli ; — each generation which 
passes away leaves a population of mummies to a 


1 6 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


shadowy city ; beneath the father you find the 
grandfather and the great-grandfather in their 
gilded and painted boxes, even as they were dur- 
ing life ; and should you dig down forever, for- 
ever you would still find the underlying dead. 

“ When I think upon those bandage-swathed 
myriads, — those multitudes of parched specters 
who fill the sepulchral pits and who have been 
there for two thousand years, face to face in their 
own silence which nothing ever breaks, not even 
the noise which the graveworms make in crawling, 
and who will be found intact after yet another two 
thousand years with their crocodiles, their cats, 
their ibises, and all things that lived in their life- 
time, — then terrors seize me, and I feel my flesh 
creep ! What do they mutter to each other ? — for 
they still have lips ; and every ghost would find 
its body in the same state as when it quitted it, 
if they should all take the fancy to return ! 

“ Ah, truly is Egypt a sinister kingdom, and 
little suited to me, the laughter-loving and merry 
one ! — everything in it encloses a mummy: that 
is the heart and the kernel of all things. After 
a thousand turns you must always end there ; — 
the pyramids themselves hide sarcophagi. What 
nothingness and madness is this ! Disembowel 
the sky with gigantic triangles of stone, — you 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. if 

cannot thereby lengthen your corpse an inch. 
How can one rejoice and live in a land like this, 
where the only perfume you can respire is the 
acrid odor of the naphtha and bitumen which 
boil in the caldrons of the embalmers, where the 
very flooring of your chamber sounds hollow be- 
cause the corridors of the hypogea and the mor- 
tuary pits extend even under your alcove? To be 
the queen of mummies, — to have none to converse 
with but statues in constrained and rigid atti- 
tudes, — this is in truth a cheerful lot ! Again : if 
I only had some heartfelt passion to relieve this 
melancholy — some interest in life; if I could but 
love somebody or something — if I were even 
loved ! but I am not ! 

“ This is why I am weary, Charmion : with love 
this grim and arid Egypt would seem to me fairer 
than even Greece with her ivory gods, her temples 
of snowy marble, her groves of laurel and fount- 
ains of living water. There I should never dream 
of the weird face of Anubis, and the ghastly 
terrors of the cities under ground.” 

Charmion smiled incredulously : “ That ought 

not, surely, to be a source of much grief to you, O 
queen ; for every glance of your eyes transpierces 
hearts, like the golden arrows of Eros himself.” 

“ Can a queen,” answered Cleopatra, “ ever 


i8 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


know whether it is her face or her diadem that is 
loved ? The rays of her starry crown dazzle the 
eyes and the heart : — were I to descend from the 
height of my throne, would I even have the celeb- 
rity or the popularity of Bacchis or Archianassa ? 
— of the first courtesan from Athens or Miletus ? 
A queen is something so far removed from men, — 
so elevated, so widely separated from them, — so 
impossible for them to reach ! What presumption 
dare flatter itself in such an enterprise ? It is 
not simply a woman : it is an august and sacred 
being that has no sex, and that is worshiped 
kneeling without being loved. Who was ever 
really enamoured of Hera, the snowy-armed, or 
Pallas of the sea-green eyes ? — who ever sought to 
kiss the silver feet of Thetis or the rosy fingers 
of Aurora? — what lover of the divine beauties 
ever took unto himself wings that he might soar 
to the golden palaces of heaven ? Respect and 
fear chill hearts in our presence ; and in order to 
obtain the love of our equals, one must descend 
into those necropoli of which I have just been 
speaking ! ” 

Although she offered no further objection to 
the arguments of her mistress, a vague smile 
which played about the lips of the handsome 
Greek slave, showed that she had little faith in 
the inviolability of the royal person. 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA’S NIGHTS. 


19 


“ Ah,” continued Cleopatra, “ I wish that some- 
thing would happen to me, — some strange un- 
expected adventure ! The songs of the poets ; 
the dances of the Syrian slaves ; the banquets, 
rose garlanded, and prolonged into the dawn ; the 
nocturnal races ; the Laconian dogs ; the tame 
lions ; the humpbacked dwarfs; the brotherhood of 
the Inimitables; the combats of the arena; the 
new dresses ; the byssus robes ; the clusters of 
pearls ; the perfumes from Asia ; the most ex- 
quisite of luxuries, the wildest of splendors — 
nothing any longer gives me pleasure; everything 
has become indifferent to me — everything is in- 
supportable to me!” 

“ It is easily to be seen,” muttered Charmion to 
herself, “ that the queen has not had a lover, nor 
had anyone killed for a whole month.” 

Fatigued with so lengthy a tirade, Cleopatra 
once more took the cup placed beside her, mois- 
tened her lips with it ; and putting her head be- 
neath her arm, like a dove putting its head under 
its wing, composed herself for slumber as best she 
could. Charmion unfastened her sandals, and 
commenced to gently tickle the soles of her feet 
with a peacock’s feather ; and Sleep soon sprink- 
led his golden dust upon the beautiful eyes of 
Ptolemy’s sister. 


20 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


While Cleopatra sleeps, let us ascend upon deck 
and enjoy the glorious sun-set view. A broad 
band of violet color, warmed deeply with ruddy 
tints toward the west, occupies all the lower por- 
tion of the sky ; encountering the zone of azure 
above, the violet shade melts into a clear lilac, and 
fades off through half-rosy tints, into the blue 
beyond : afar, where the sun, red as a buckler 
fallen from the furnace of Vulcan casts his burn- 
ing reflection, the deeper shades turn to pale citron 
hues, and glow with turquoise tints. The water 
rippling under an oblique beam of light, shines 
with the dull gleam of the quicksilvered side of 
a mirror, or like a damascened blade : the sinu- 
osities of the bank, the reeds, and all objects along 
the shore are brought out in sharp black relief 
against the bright glow. By the aid of this cre- 
puscular light you may perceive afar off, like a 
grain of dust floating upon quicksilver, a little 
brown speck trembling in the net work of luminous 
ripples. Is it a teal diving? — a tortoise lazily 
drifting with the current? — a crocodile raising 
the tip of his scaly snout above the water to breathe 
the cooler air of evening ? — the belly of a hippopot- 
amus gleaming amid-stream ; or, perhaps a rock 
left bare by the falling of the river : for the an- 
cient Opi-Mou, Father of Waters, sadly needs to 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS . 


21 


replenish his dry urn from the solstitial rains of 
the Mountains of the Moon. 

It is none of these. — By the atoms of Osiris 
so deftly resewn together ! it is a man, who seems 
to walk, to skate upon the water! — now the 
frail bark which sustains him becomes visible, — 
a very nutshell of a boat, — a hollow fish ! — three 
strips of bark fitted together, (one for the bottom 
and two for the sides) and strongly fastened at 
either end by cord well smeared with bitumen. 
The man stands erect with one foot on either 
side of this fragile vessel, which he impels with 
a single oar that also serves the purpose of a 
rudder; — and although the royal cangia moves 
rapidly under the efforts of the fifty rowers, the 
little black bark visibly gains upon it. 

Cleopatra desired some strange adventure, 
something wholly unexpected ; this little bark 
which moves so mysteriously, seems to us to be 
conveying an adventure, or at least an adventurer. 
Perhaps it contains the hero of our story; — the 
thing is not impossible. 

At any rate he was a handsome youth of twenty, 
with hair so black that it seemed to own a tinge of 
blue, a skin blonde as gold, and a form so perfectly 
proportioned that he might have been taken for a 
bronze statue by Lysippus; — although he had 


22 


ONE OF CLE OPA TEA'S NIGHTS. 


been rowing for a very long time he betrayed no 
sign of fatigue, and not a single drop of sweat be- 
dewed his forehead. 

The sun half sank below the horizon ; and 
against his broken disk figured the dark silhouette 
of a far distant city, which the eye could not have 
distinguished but for this accidental effect of 
light ; his radiance soon faded altogether away ; 
and the stars, — fair night-flowers of heaven, — 
opened their chalices of gold in the azure of the 
firmament. The royal cangia closely followed 
by the little bark, stopped before a huge marble 
stairway, whereof each step supported one of 
those sphinxes that Cleopatra so much detested. 
This was the landing place of the summer 
palace. 

Cleopatra, leaning upon Charmion, passed 
swiftly like a gleaming vision between a double 
line of lantern-bearing slaves. 

The youth took from the bottom of his little 
boat, a great lion-skin, threw it across his should- 
ers, drew the tiny shell upon the beach, and 
wended his way toward the palace. 


CHAPTER III. 


Who is this young man, balancing himself upon 
a fragment of bark, who dares to follow the 
royal cangia, and is able to contend in a race of 
speed against fifty strong rowers from the land of 
Kush, all naked to the waist, and anointed with 
palm-oil ? what secret motive urges him to this swift 
pursuit ? That, indeed, is one of the many things 
we are obliged to know in our character of the in- 
tuition-gifted poet, for whose benefit all men, 'and 
even all women (a much more difficult matter) 
must have in their breasts that little window 
which Momus of old demanded. 

It is not a very easy thing to find out precisely 
what a young man from the land of Kemi, — who 
followed the barge of Cleopatra, queen and god- 
dess Evergetes, on her return from the Mammisi 
of Hermonthis two thousand years ago, — was 
then thinking of. But we shall make the effort 
notwithstanding. 

Meïamoun, son of Mandouschopsch, was a 
youth of strange character; nothing by which 
ordinary minds are affected made any impression 

( 2 3 ) 


24 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA’S NIGHTS. 


upon him ; he seemed to belong to some loftier 
race, and might well have been regarded as the 
offspring of some divine adultery. His glance 
had the steady brilliancy of a falcon’s gaze ; and 
a serene majesty sat on his brow as upon a ped- 
estal of marble ; a noble pride curled his upper 
lip, and expanded his nostrils like those of a fiery 
horse ; — although owning a grace of form almost 
maidenly in its delicacy, and though the bosom 
of the fair and effeminate god Dionysos was not 
more softly rounded or smoother than his, yet be- 
neath this soft exterior were hidden sinews of 
steel, and the strength of Hercules — a strange 
privilege of certain antique natures to unite in 
themselves the beauty of woman with the strength 
of man ! 

As for his complexion, we must acknowledge 
that it was of a tawny orange color, — a hue little 
in accordance with our white-and-rose ideas of 
beauty, but which did not prevent him from being 
a very charming young man, much sought after 
by all kinds of women, — yellow, red, copper-col- 
ored, sooty-black, or golden skinned ; and even 
by one fair white Greek. 

Do not suppose from this that Meïamoun’s lot 
was altogether enviable; — the ashes of aged 
Priam, the very snows of Hippolytus, were not 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


2 5 


more insensible or more frigid; — the young white- 
robed neophyte preparing for the initiation into 
the mysteries of Isis led no chaster life; — the 
young maiden benumbed by the icy shadow of her 
mother was not more shyly pure. 

Nevertheless, for so coy a youth, the pleasures 
of Meïamoun were certainly of a singular nature : 
— he would go forth quietly some morning with 
his little buckler of hippopotamus hide, his harpe 
or curved sword, a triangular bow and a snake- 
skin quiver, filled with barbed arrows ; then he 
would ride at a gallop far into the desert upon his 
slender-limbed, small-headed, wild-maned mare, 
until he could find some lion-tracks: — he espe- 
cially delighted in taking the little lion-cubs from 
underneath the belly of their mother. In all 
things he loved the perilous or the unachievable ; 
he preferred to walk where it seemed impossible 
for any human being to obtain a foothold, or to 
swim in a raging torrent; and he had accordingly 
chosen the neighborhood of the cataracts for his 
bathing place in the Nile: the Abyss called him ! 

Such was Meïamoun, son of Mandouschopsh. 

For some time his humors had been growing 
more savage than ever : during whole months he 
buried himself in the Ocean of Sands, returning 
only at long intervals. Vainly would h^uneasjL. 


japan nr 


2 6 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


mother lean from her terrace, and gaze anxiously 
down the long road with tireless eyes. At last 
after weary waiting, a little whirling cloud of dust 
would become visible in the horizon ; and finally 
the cloud would open to allow a full view of Meïa- 
moun, all covered with dust, riding upon a mare 
gaunt as a wolf with red and blood-shot eyes, nos- 
trils trembling, and huge scars along her flanks, — 
scars which certainly were not made by spurs ! 

After having hung up in his room some hyena 
or lion skin, he would start off again. 

And yet no one might have been happier than 
Meïamoun : he was beloved by Nephthe, daughter 
of the priest Afomouthis, and the loveliest woman 
of the Nome Arsinoïtes. Only such a being as 
Meïamoun could have failed to see that Nephthe 
had the most charmingly oblique and indescribably 
voluptuous eyes, a mouth sweetly illuminated by 
ruddy smiles ; little teeth of wondrous whiteness 
and transparency : arms exquisitely round, and feet 
more perfect than the jasper feet of the statue of 
Isis : — assuredly there was not a smaller hand nor 
longer hair than hers in all Egypt. The charms 
of Nephthe could have been eclipsed only by those 
of Cleopatra. But who could dare to dream of 
loving Cleopatra? Ixion, enamoured of Juno, 
strained only a cloud to his bosom, and must for- 
ever roll the wheel of his punishment in hell. 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


27 


It was Cleopatra whom Meïamoun loved. 

He had at first striven to tame this wild pas- 
sion ; he had wrestled fiercely with it : but love 
cannot be strangled even as a lion is strangled ; 
and the strong skill of the mightiest athlete avails 
nothing in such a contest. The arrow had re- 
mained in the wound, and he carried it with him 
everywhere ; — the radiant and splendid image of 
Cleopatra with her golden-pointed diadem and her 
imperial purple, standing above a nation on 
their knees, illumined his nightly dreams and his 
waking thoughts : like some imprudent man who 
has dared to look at the sun and forever there- 
after beholds an impalpable blot floating before 
his eyes, — so Meïamoun ever beheld Cleopatra. 
Eagles may gaze undazzled at the sun ; but what 
diamond eye can with impunity fix itself upon a 
beautiful woman — a beautiful queen ? 

He commenced at last to spend his life in wan- 
dering about the neighborhood of the royal dwel- 
ling, that he might at least breathe the same air 
as Cleopatra, — that he might sometimes kiss the 
almost imperceptible print of her foot upon the 
sand ( a happiness, alas ! rare indeed ) : he at- 
tended the sacred festivals and panegyreis striving 
to obtain one beaming glance of her eyes — to 
catch in passing one stealthy glimpse of her 


28 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


loveliness in some of its thousand varied aspects. 
At other moments filled with sudden shame of 
this mad life, he gave himself up to the chase 
with redoubled ardor, and sought by fatigue to 
tame the ardor of his blood and the impetuosity 
of his desires. 

He had gone to the panegyris of Hermonthis ; 
and in the vague hope of beholding the queen 
again for an instant as she disembarked at the 
summer palace, had followed her cangia in his 
boat, — little heeding the sharp stings of the sun, 
— through a heat intense enough to make the 
panting sphinxes melt in lava-sweat upon their 
reddened pedestals. 

And then he felt that the supreme moment was 
nigh, — that the decisive instant of his life was at 
hand ; and that he could not die with his secret 
in his breast. 

It is a strange situation, truly, to find one’s self 
enamored of a queen ; it is as though one 
loved a star, — yet she, the star, comes forth 
nightly to sparkle in her place in heaven : it is a 
kind of mysterious rendezvous ; — you may find 
her again, you may see her ; she is not offended 
at your gaze ! O, misery! to be poor, unknown, 
obscure, seated at the very foot of the ladder, — 
and to feel one’s heart breaking with love for 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


29 


something glittering, solemn, and magnificent, — 
for a woman whose meanest female attendant 
would scorn you ! — to gaze fixedly and fatefully 
upon one who never sees you, who never will see 
you; 1 — one to whom you are no more than a 
ripple on the sea of humanity, in nowise differing 
from the other ripples ; and who might a hundred 
times encounter you without once recognizing 
you ! — to have no reason to offer, should an op- 
portunity for addressing her present itself, in ex- 
cuse for such mad audacity ; neither poetical 
talent, nor great genius, nor any superhuman 
qualification, — nothing but love ; and to be able 
to offer in exchange for beauty, nobility, power, 
and all imaginable splendor, only one’s passion 
and one’s youth, — rare offerings, forsooth ! 

Such w r ere the thoughts which overwhelmed 
Meïamoun ; lying upon the sand, supporting his 
chin on his palms, he permitted himself to be 
lifted and borne away by the inexhaustible cur- 
rent of reverie; — he sketched out a thousand 
projects, each madder than the last. He felt con- 
vinced that he was seeking after the unattainable ; 
but he-lacked the courage to frankly renounce 
his undertaking; and a perfidious hope came to 
whisper some lying promises in his ear. 

“Athor, mighty goddess, ” he murmured in a 


30 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


deep voice, — “what evil have I done against thee 
that I should be made thus miserable? — art thou 
avenging thyself for my disdain of Nephthe, 
daughter of the priest Afomouthis ? — hast thou 
afflicted me thus for having rejected the love of 
Lamia, the Athenian hetaira, or of Flora, the 
Roman courtesan ? Is it my fault that my heart 
should be sensible only to the matchless beauty 
of thy rival, Cleopatra ? Why hast thou wounded 
my soul with the envenomed arrow of unattain- 
able love ? What sacrifice, what offerings dost 
thou desire ? Must I erect to thee a chapel of 
the rosy marble of Syene with columns crowned 
by gilded capitals, a ceiling all of one block, and 
hieroglyphics deeply sculptured by the best work- 
men of Memphis and of Thebes ? Answer 
me!” 

Like all gods or goddesses thus invoked, Athor 
answered not a word ; and Meïamoun resolved 
upon a desperate expedient 

Cleopatra, on her part, likewise invoked the 
goddess Athor; she prayed for a new pleasure, for 
some fresh sensation : as she languidly reclined 
upon her couch, she thought to herself that the 
number of the senses was sadly limited ; that the 
most exquisite refinements of delight soon yielded 
to satiety ; and that it was really no small task 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


3 r 


for a queen to find means of occupying her time. 
To test new poisons upon slaves ; to make men 
fight with tigers, or gladiators with each other ; 
to drink pearls dissolved ; to swallow the wealth 
of a whole province: all these things had become 
commonplace and insipid! 

Charmion was fairly at her wit’s end ; and knew 
not what to do for her mistress. 

Suddenly a whistling sound was heard; and an 
arrow buried itself, quivering, in the cedar wains- 
coting of the wall. 

Cleopatra well-nigh fainted with terror. Char- 
mion ran to the window, leaned out, and beheld 
only a flake of foam on the surface of the river. 
A scroll of papyrus encircled the wood of the 
arrow ; it bore only these words written in Phoeni- 
cian characters : “ I love you 1 ” 


CHAPTER IV. 


“ I love you, ” repeated Cleopatra, making the 
serpent-coiling strip of papyrus writhe between 
her delicate white fingers ; “ those are the words 
I longed for ; what intelligent spirit, what invisi- 
ble genius has thus so fully comprehended my 
desire ? ” 

And thoroughly aroused from her languid tor- 
por, she sprang out of bed with the agility of a 
cat which has scented a mouse, placed her little 
ivory feet in her embroidered tatbebs , threw a 
byssus tunic over her shoulders, and ran to the 
window from which Charmion was still gazing. 

The night was clear and calm ; the risen moon 
outlined with huge angles of light and shadow 
the architectural masses of the palace, which 
stood out in strong relief against a background 
of bluish transparency; and the waters of the 
river wherein her reflection lengthened into a 
shining column, was frosted with silvery ripples : 
a gentle breeze, such as might have been mistaken 
for the respiration of the slumbering sphinxes, 
quivered among the reeds and shook the azure 

(32) 


ONE OF CLE OP A TEA'S NIGHTS . 


33 


bells of the lotus flowers ; the cables of the ves- 
sels moored to the Nile’s banks groaned feebly; 
and the rippling tide moaned upon the shore like 
a dove lamenting for its mate. A vague perfume 
of vegetation, sweeter than that of the aromatics 
burned in the anschir of the priests of Anubis, 
floated into the chamber. It was one of those 
enchanted nights of the Orient, which are more 
splendid than our fairest days ; for our sun can 
ill compare with that Oriental moon. 

“ Do you not see far over there, almost in the 
middle of the river, the head of a man swim- 
ming ? See ! he crosses that track of light, and 
passes into the shadow beyond! — he is already 
out of sight ! ” And supporting herself upon 
Charmions shoulder she leaned out, with half of 
her fair body beyond the sill of the window, in 
the effort to catch another glimpse of the mys- 
terious swimmer. But a grove of Nile acacias, 
dhoum-palms, and sayals flung its deep shadow 
upon the river in that direction, and protected the 
flight of the daring fugitive. If Meïamoun had 
but had the courtesy to look back, he might have 
beheld Cleopatra, the sidereal queen, eagerly seek- 
ing him through the night gloom, — he, the poor 
obscure Egyptian ! the miserable lion-hunter ! 

“ Charmion ! Charmion ! send hither Phrehi- 


34 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


pephbour, the chief of the rowers ; and have two 
boats dispatched in pursuit of that man!” — cried 
Cleopatra, whose curiosity was excited to the 
highest pitch. 

Phrehipephbour appeared, — a man of the race 
of Nahasi, with large hands and muscular arms ; 
wearing a red cap not unlike a Phrygian helmet 
in form, and clad only in a pair of narrow drawers 
diagonally striped with white and blue. His huge 
torso, entirely nude, black and polished like a 
globe of jet, shone under the lamplight. He re- 
ceived the commands of the queen and instantly 
retired to execute them. 

Two long narrow boats so light that the least 
inattention to equilibrium would capsize them, 
were soon cleaving the waters of the Nile with 
hissing rapidity under the efforts of the twenty 
vigorous rowers ; but the pursuit was all in vain. 
After searching the river banks in every direction, 
and carefully exploring every patch of reeds, 
Phrehipephbour returned to the palace ; having 
only succeeded in putting to flight some solitary 
heron which had been sleeping on one leg, or in 
troubling the digestion of some terrified crocodile. 

So intense was the vexation of Cleopatra at 
being thus foiled, that she felt a strong inclination 
to condemn Phrehipephbour either to the wild 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


35 


beasts, or to the hardest labor at the grindstone. 
Happily Charmion interceded for the trembling 
unfortunate who turned pale with fear despite 
his black skin. It was the first time in Cleo- 
patra's life that one of her desires had not been 
gratified as soon as expressed ; and she experi- 
enced in consequence a kind of uneasy surprise, 

— a first doubt, as it were, of her own omnipo- 
tence. 

She, Cleopatra, wife and sister of Ptolemy, 

— she who had been proclaimed goddess Ever- 
getes, living queen of the regions Above and 
Below, Eye of Light, Chosen of the Sun (as may 
still be read within the cartouches sculptured on 
the walls of the temples), — she to find an obsta- 
cle in her path ! to have wished aught that failed 
of accomplishment ! to have spoken and not been 
obeyed ! As well be the wife of some wretched 
Paraschistes, — some corpse-cutter, — and melt 
natron in a caldron ! It was monstrous, pre- 
posterous ! — and none but the most gentle and 
clement of queens could have refrained from 
crucifying that miserable Phrehipephbour ! 

You wished for some adventure, something 
strange and unexpected: your wish has been 
gratified. You find that your kingdom is not 
so dead as you deemed it. It was not the 


36 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


stony arm of a statue which shot that arrow; 
— it was not from a mummy’s heart that came 
those three words which have moved even you, — 
you who smilingly watched your poisoned slaves 
dashing their heads and beating their feet upon 
your beautiful mosaic and porphyry pavements, 
in the convulsions of death-agony! — you who 
even applauded the tiger which boldly buried its 
muzzle in the flank of some vanquished gladiator ! 

You could obtain all else you might wish for: 
chariots of silver starred with emeralds ; griffin- 
quadrigeræ ; tunics of purple thrice-dyed ; mir- 
rors of molten steel, so clear that you might find 
the charms of your loveliness faithfully copied in 
them ; robes from the land of Serica so fine and 
subtly light that they could be drawn through 
the ring worn upon your little finger; orient 
pearls of wondrous color ; cups wrought by 
Myron or Lysippus ; Indian paroquets that 
speak like poets: — all things else you could ob- 
tain, even should you ask for the Cestus of Venus 
or the pshent of Isis ; but most certainly you 
cannot this night capture the man who shot the 
arrow which still quivers in the cedar wood of 
your couch. 

The task of the slaves who must dress you 
to-morrow will not be a grateful one ; they will 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


37 


hardly escape with blows : the bosom of the un- 
skillful waitingmaid will be apt to prove a cushion 
for the golden pins of the toilette ; and the poor 
hairdresser will run great risk of being suspended 
by her feet from the ceiling. 

“ Who could have had the audacity to send me 
this avowal upon the shaft of an arrow ? Could 
it have been the Nomarch Amoun-Ra who fan- 
cies himself handsomer than the Apollo of the 
Greeks? — what think you,- Charmion ? — or per- 
haps Cheâpsiro, commander of Hermothybia, 
who is so boastful of his conquests in the land of 
Kush ? Or is it not more likely to have been 
young Sextus, that Roman debauchee who paints 
his face, lisps in speaking, and wears sleeves in 
the fashion of the Persians ? ” 

“ Queen, it was none of those : though you are 
indeed the fairest of women, those men only 
flatter you ; they do not love you. The Nomarch 
Amoun-Ra has chosen himself an idol to which 
he will be forever faithful ; and that is his own 
person : the warrior Cheâpsiro thinks of nothing 
save the pleasure of recounting his victories ; — as 
for Sextus, he is so seriously occupied with the 
preparation of a new cosmetic that he cannot 
dream of anything else. Besides he had just 
purchased some Laconian dresses, a number of 


38 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS . 


yellow tunics embroidered with gold, and some 
Asiatic children which absorb all his time. Not 
one of those fine lords would risk his head in so 
daring and dangerous an undertaking; — they do 
not love you well enough for that. 

“Yesterday in your cangia, you said that men 
dared not fix their dazzled eyes upon you ; that 
they knew only how to turn pale in your pres- 
ence, — to fall at your feet and supplicate your 
mercy ; and that your sole remaining resource 
would be to awake some ancient, bitumen-per- 
fumed Pharoah from his gilded coffin. Now 
here is an ardent and youthful heart that loves 
you : what will you do with it ? ” 

Cleopatra that night sought slumber in vain . 
she tossed feverishly upon her couch, and long 
and vainly invoked Morpheus the brother of 
Death; — she incessantly repeated that she was 
the most unhappy of queens, — that everyone 
sought to persecute her, — and that her life 
had become insupportable: woeful lamentations 
which had little effect upon Charmion, although 
she pretended to sympathize with them. 

Let us for a while leave Cleopatra to seek 
fugitive sleep, and direct her suspicions succes- 
sively upon each noble of the court; — let us re- 
turn to Meïamoun ; — and as we are much more 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


39 


sagacious than Phrehipephbour, chief of the 
rowers, we shall have no difficulty in finding him. 

Terrified at his own hardihood Meïamoun had 
thrown himself into the Nile, and had succeeded 
in swimming the current and gaining the little 
grove of dhoum-palms, before Phrehipephbour 
had even launched the two boats in pursuit of 
him. 

When he had recovered breath, and brushed 
back his long black locks, all damp with river 
foam, behind his ears, he began to feel more at 
ease, — more inwardly calm. Cleopatra possessed 
something which had come from him ; some sort 
of communication was now established between 
them: Cleopatra was thinking of him, — Meïa- 
moun ! Perhaps that thought might be one of 
wrath ; but then he had at least been able to awake 
some feeling within her, — whether of fear, anger, 
or pity : he had forced her to the consciousness of 
his existence. It was true that he had forgotten 
to inscribe his name upon the papyrus scroll; 
but what more of him could the queen have 
learned from the inscription, — Meiamoun , Son of 
Mandouschopsh? In her eyes the slave or the 
monarch were equal. A goddess, in choosing a 
peasant for her lover, stoops no lower than in 
choosing a patrician or a king : the Immortals 


40 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


from a height so lofty can behold only love in 
the man of their choice. 

The thought which had weighed upon his 
breast like the knee of a colossus of brass, had 
at last departed : it had traversed the air ; it had 
even reached the queen herself, — the apex of the 
triangle, — the inaccessible summit! It had 
aroused curiosity in that impassive heart — a 
prodigious advance, truly, toward success ! 

Meïamoun indeed never suspected that he had 
so thoroughly succeeded in this wise ; but he felt 
more tranquil, — for he had sworn unto himself 
by that mystic Bari who guides the souls of the 
dead to Amenthi, by the sacred birds Bermou 
and Ghenghen, by Typhon and by Osiris and by 
all things awful in Egyptian mythology, that he 
should be the accepted lover of Cleopatra though 
it were but for a single night, — though for only 
a single hour, — though it should cost him his 
life, and even his very soul. 

If we must explain how he had fallen so deeply 
in love with a woman whom he had beheld only 
from afar off, and to whom he had hardly dared 
to raise his eyes — even he who was wont to gaze 
fearlessly into the yellow eyes of the lion, — or 
how the tiny seed of love, chance-fallen upon his 
heart, had grown there so rapidly and extended 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


41 


its roots so deeply, we can answer only that it is 
a mystery which we are unable to explain : — we 
have already said of Me’iamoun, — The Abyss 
called him. 

Once assured that Phrehipephbour had re- 
turned with his rowers, he again threw himself 
into the current and once more swam toward the 
palace of Cleopatra, whose lamp still shone 
through the window curtains like a painted star. 
Never did Leander swim with more courage and 
vigor toward the tower of Sestos ; yet for Meïa- 
moun no Hero was waiting, ready to pour vials 
of perfume upon his head to dissipate the briny 
odors of the sea, and banish the sharp kisses of 
the storm. 

A strong blow from some keen lance or harpe 
was certainly the worst he had to fear ; and in 
truth he had but little fear of such things. 

He swam close under the walls of the palace 
which bathed its marble feet in the river’s depths, 
and paused an instant before a submerged archway 
into which the water rushed downward in eddying 
whirls. Twice, thrice, he plunged into the vortex 
unsuccessfully; — at last, with better luck, he 
found the opening and disappeared. 

This archway was the opening to a vaulted 
canal, which conducted the waters of the Nile 
into the baths of Cleopatra. 


CHAPTER V. 


Cleopatra found no rest until morning, at the 
hour when wandering dreams reenter the Ivory- 
Gate. Amidst the illusions of sleep she beheld 
all kinds of lovers swimming rivers and scaling 
walls in order to come to her; and, through the 
vague souvenirs of the night before, her dreams 
appeared fairly riddled with arrows bearing decla- 
rations of love. Starting nervously from time to 
time in her troubled slumbers, she struck her 
little feet unconsciously against the bosom of 
Charmion, who lay across the foot of the bed to 
serve her as a cushion. 

When she awoke a merry sunbeam was playing 
through the window curtain, whose woof it pene- 
trated with a thousand tiny points of light, 
and thence came familiarly to the bed ; flitting 
like a golden butterfly over her lovely shoulders, 
which it lightly touched in passing by with a 
luminous kiss. Happy sunbeam, which the Gods 
mio'ht well have envied ! 

o 

In a faint voice, like that of a sick child, Cleo- 
patra asked to be lifted out of bed ; two of her 

(42) 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


43 


women raised her in their arms and gently laid 
her on a tiger skin stretched upon the floor, of 
which the eyes were formed of carbuncles and 
the claws of gold. Charmion wrapped her in a 
calasiris of linen whiter than milk ; confined her 
hair in a net of woven silver threads ; tied to her 
little feet cork tatbebs upon the soles of which 
were painted in token of contempt two grotesque 
figures representing two men of the races of 
Nahasi and Nahmou, bound hand and foot: — 
so that Cleopatra literally deserved the epithet, 
“ Conculcatrix of Nations ” # which the royal 
cartouche-inscriptions bestow upon her. 

It was the hour for the bath ; Cleopatra went 
to bathe accompanied by her women. 

The baths of Cleopatra were built in the midst 
of immense gardens filled with mimosas, aloes, 
carob-trees, citron-trees, and Persian apple-trees, 
whose luxuriant freshness afforded a delicious 
contrast to the arid appearance of the neigh- 
boring vegetation : there, too, vast terraces up- 
lifted masses of verdant foliage, and enabled 
flowers to climb almost to the very sky upon 
gigantic stairways of rose-colored granite; — vases 
of Pentelic marble bloomed at the end of each 

* Conculcatrice des peuples. From the Latin conculcare y to trample 
under foot : — therefore the epithet literally signifies the “ Trampler of 
nations. ” — [Trans. 


44 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


step like huge lily-flowers ; and the plants they 
contained seemed only their pistils ; — chimeras 
caressed into form by the chisels of the most 
skillful Greek sculptors, and less stern of aspect 
than the Egyptian sphinxes, with their grim 
mien and moody attitudes, softly extended their 
limbs upon the flower-strewn turf, like shapely 
white leverettes upon a drawing-room carpet. 
These were charming feminine figures, — with 
finely chiseled nostrils, smooth brows, small 
mouths, delicately dimpled arms, breasts fair- 
rounded and daintily formed ; wearing earrings, 
necklaces, and all the trinkets suggested by ador- 
able caprice, — whose bodies terminated in bifur- 
cated fishes’ tails, like the women described by 
Horace, or extended into birds’ wings, or rounded 
into lions’ haunches, or blended into volutes of 
foliage according to the fancies of the artist or 
in conformity to the architectural position chosen. 
A double row of these delightful monsters lined 
the alley which led from the palace to the 
bathing halls. 

At the end of this alley was a huge fountain- 
basin, approached by four porphyry stairways ; 
through the transparent depths of the diamond- 
clear water the steps could be seen descending to 
the bottom of the basin, which was strewn with 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


45 


gold-dust in lieu of sand ; — here figures of 
women terminating in pedestals like Caryatides * 
spirted from their breasts slender jets of per- 
fumed water, which fell into the basin in silvery 
dew, pitting the clear watery mirror with wrinkle- 
creating drops. In addition to this task these 
Caryatides had likewise that of supporting upon 
their heads an entablature decorated with Nereids 
and Tritons in bas-relief, and furnished with rings 
of bronze to which the silken cords of a velarium 
might be attached. From the portico was visible 
an extending expanse of freshly humid, bluish- 
green verdure and cool shade, — a fragment of 
the Vale of Tempe transported to Egypt. The 
famous gardens of Semiramis would not have 
borne comparison with these. 

We will not pause to describe the seven or 
eight other halls of various temperature, with 
their hot and cold vapors, perfume boxes, cos- 
metics, oils, pumice stone, gloves of woven horse- 
hair, and all the refinements of the antique 
balneatory art brought to the highest pitch of 
voluptuous perfection. 

Hither came Cleopatra, leaning with one hand 
upon the shoulder of Charmion ; she had taken 


* The Greeks and Romans usually termed such figures Hermae or 
Termini. Caryatides were, strictly, entire figures of women. — [Trans. 


46 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


at least thirty steps all by herself — mighty effort! 
— enormous fatigue ! A tender tint of rose com- 
menced to suffuse the transparent skin of her 
cheeks, refreshing their passionate pallor; — a 
blue network of veins relieved the amber blond- 
ness of her temples; her marble forehead — low 
* like the antique foreheads, but full and perfect in 
form, — united by one faultless line with a straight 
nose finely chiseled as a cameo, with rosy nos- 
trils which the least emotion made palpitate like 
the nostrils of an amorous tigress ; the lips of 
her small, rounded mouth, slightly separated 
from the nose, wore a disdainful curve ; but an 
unbridled voluptuousness, — an indescribable 
vital warmth, — glowed in the brilliant crimson 
and humid luster of the under lip. Her eyes 
were shaded by level eyelids and eyebrows 
slightly arched and delicately outlined. We can- 
not attempt by description to convey an idea of 
their brilliancy ; it was a fire, a languor, a spark- 
ling limpidity which might have made even the 
dog-headed Anubis giddy; every glance of her 
eyes was in itself a poem richer than aught of 
Homer or Mimnermus. An imperial chin, re- 
plete with force and power to command, worthily 
completed this charming profile. 

She stood erect upon the upper step' of the 


ONE OF CLE OF A TEA'S NIGHTS. 


47 


basin, in an attitude full of proud grace ; her 
figure slightly thrown back, and one foot in sus- 
pense, like a goddess about to leave her pedestal, 
whose eyes still linger on heaven : her robe fell in 
two superb folds from the peaks of her bosom to 
her feet, in unbroken lines. Had Cleomenes 
been her cotemporary and enjoyed the happiness 
of beholding her thus, he would have broken his 
Venus in despair. 

Before entering the water, she bade Charmion, 
for a new caprice, to change her silver hair-net ; — 
she preferred to be crowned with reeds and lotos- 
flowers, like a water divinity. Charmion obeyed ; 
and her liberated hair fell in black cascades over 
her shoulders, and shadowed her beautiful cheeks 
in rich bunches like ripening grapes. 

Then the linen tunic, which had been confined 
only by one golden clasp, glided down over her 
marble body, and fell in a white cloud at her feet, 
like the swan at the feet of Leda 

And Meïamoun, where was he ? 

O cruel lot, that so many insensible objects 
should enjoy the favors which would ravish a 
lover with delight ! The wind which toys with a 
wealth of perfumed hair, or kisses beautiful lips 
with kisses which it is unable to appreciate ; the 
water which envelopes an adorably beautiful body 


48 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


in one universal kiss, and is yet notwithstanding 
indifferent to that exquisite pleasure ; the mirror 
which reflects so many charming images ; the 
buskin or tatbeb which clasps a divine little foot : 
— oh, what happiness lost! 

Cleopatra dipped her pink heel in the water 
and descended a few steps : the quivering flood 
made a silver belt about her waist, and silver 
bracelets about her arms, and rolled in pearls like 
a broken necklace over her bosom and shoulders ; 
her wealth of hair, lifted by the water, extended be- 
hind her like a royal mantle : — even in the bath she 
was a queen. She swam to and fro, dived and 
brought up handfuls of gold dust with which she 
laughingly pelted some of her women ; — again, 
she clung suspended to the balustrade of the 
basin, concealing or exposing her treasures of 
loveliness, — now permitting only her lustrous and 
polished back to be seen, — now showing her 
whole figure, like Venus Anadyomene, and in- 
cessantly varying the aspects of her beauty. 

Suddenly she uttered a cry as shrill as that of 
Diana surprised by Actæon : she had seen 
gleaming through the neighboring foliage a 
burning eye, yellow and phosphoric as the eye of 
a crocodile or lion. 

It was Meïamoun who, crouching behind a tuft 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


49 


of leaves, and trembling like a fawn in a field of 
wheat, was intoxicating himself with the danger- 
ous pleasure of beholding the queen in her bath. 
Though brave even to temerity, the cry of Cleo- 
patra passed through his heart, coldly-piercing as 
the blade of a sword : a death-like sweat covered 
his whole body; his arteries hissed through his 
temples with a sharp sound; — the iron hand of 
anxious fear had seized him by the throat, and 
was strangling him. 

The eunuchs rushed forward lance in hand: 
Cleopatra pointed out to them the group of trees, 
where they found Meïamoun crouching in con- 
cealment. Defence was out of the question : he 
attempted none, and suffered himself to be cap- 
tured. They prepared to kill him with that cruel 
and stupid impassibility characteristic of eunuchs ; 
but Cleopatra, who in the interim had covered 
herself with her calasiris, made signs to them to 
stop and bring the prisoner before her. 

Meïamoun could only fall upon his knees and 
stretch forth suppliant hands to her, as to the 
altars of the gods. 

“Are you some assassin bribed by Rome? — 
or for what purpose have you entered these sa- 
cred precincts from which all men are exclud- 
ed?” — demanded Cleopatra with an imperious 
gesture of interrogation ? 


5o 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


“ May my soul be found light in the balance 
of Amenti, and may Tmeï, daughter of the Sun 
and goddess of Truth, punish me if I have ever 
entertained a thought of evil against you, O 
queen ! ” answered Meïamoun, still upon his knees. 

Sincerity and loyalty were written upon his 
countenance in characters so transparent, that 
Cleopatra immediately banished her suspicions, 
and looked upon the young Egyptian with a look 
less stern and wrathful : — she saw that he was 
beautiful. 

“ Then what motive could have prompted you 
to enter a place where you could only expect to 
meet death ? ” 

“ I love you ! ” murmured Meïamoun in a low 
but distinct voice ; for his courage had returned, 
as in every desperate situation when the odds 
against him could be no worse. 

“ Ah ! ” cried Cleopatra, bending toward him, 
and seizing his arm with a sudden brusque move- 
ment, — “so then it was you who shot that arrow 
with the papyrus scroll! — by Oms, the Dog of 
Hell, you are a very foolhardy wretch ! . . . . 

I now recognize you : I long observed you wan- 
dering like a complaining Shade about the places 
where I dwell. . . . You were at the Proces- 

sion of Isis, — at the Panegyris of Hermonthis : 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


51 


you followed the royal cangia. Ah! — you must 
have a queen ? .... You have no mean 

ambitions ; you expect without doubt to be well 
paid in return ! . . . . Assuredly I am go- 
ing to love you ! . . . . Why not ? ” 

“ Queen,” returned Meïamoun with a look of 
deep melancholy, “ do not rail ! I am mad, it is 
true; I have deserved death, — that is also true: 
be humane; — bid them kill me ! ” 

“No: I have taken the whim to be clement 
to-day : I will give you your life.” 

“ What would you that I should do with life ? 

— I love you ! ” 

“ Well, then, you shall be satisfied ; — you shall 
die,” answered Cleopatra : “ you have indulged 
yourself in wild and extravagant dreams; in 
fancy your desires have crossed an impassible 
threshold: — you imagined yourself to be Cæsar 
or Mark Antony — you loved the queen! In 
some moment of delirium, you have been able to 
believe that — under some condition of things 
which takes place but once in a thousand years, 

— Cleopatra might some day love you. Well, 
what you thought impossible is actually about to 
happen : — I will transform your dream into a 
reality; — it pleases me, for once, to secure the 
accomplishment of a mad hope. I am willing to 


52 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


inundate you with glories and splendors and 
lightnings : I intend that your good fortune shall 
be dazzling in its brilliancy. You were at the 
bottom of the ladder: — lam about to lift you 
to the ' summit, abruptly, suddenly, without a 
transition. I take you out of nothingness ; I 
make you the equal of a God ; and I plunge you 
back again into nothingness: that is all; — but 
do not presume to call me cruel or to invoke my 
pity, — do not weaken when the hour comes. I 
am good to you : I lend myself to your folly ; — I 
have the right to order you to be killed at once ; 
but since you tell me that you love me I will have 
you killed to-morrow instead: your life belongs to 
me for one night. I am generous : I will buy it 
from you ; — I could take it from you. But what 
are you doing on your knees at my feet ! Rise ; 
and give me your arm, that we may return to the 
palace.” 


CHAPTER VI. 


Our world of to-day is puny indeed beside the 
antique world : our banquets are mean, niggardly, 
compared with the appalling sumptuousness of 
the Roman patricians and the princes of ancient 
Asia; — their ordinary repasts would in these 
days be regarded as frenzied orgies ; and a whole 
modern city could subsist for eight days upon 
the leavings of one supper given by Lucullus to 
a few intimate friends. With our miserable hab- 
its, we find it difficult to conceive of those enor- 
mous existences, realizing everything vast, strange, 
and most monstrously impossible that imagina- 
tion could devise. Our palaces are mere stables 
in which Caligula would not quarter his horse; 
— the retinue of our wealthiest constitutional 
king is as nothing compared with that of a 
petty satrap, or a Roman proconsul. The radiant 
suns which once shone upon the earth are for- 
ever extinguished in the nothingness of uniform- 
ity; above the dark swarm of men no longer 
tower those Titanic colossi, who bestrode the 
world in three paces, like the steeds of Homer ; 

( 53 ) 


54 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS . 


— no more towers of Lylacq ; no giant Babel 
scaling the sky with its infinity of spirals ; no 
temples immeasurable, builded w r ith the fragments 
of quarried mountains ; no kingly terraces for 
which successive ages and generations could each 
erect but one step, and from whence some dream- 
fully-reclining prince might gaze on the face of 
the world as upon a map unfolded ; no more of 
those extravagantly vast cities of cyclopean edi- 
fices, inextricably piled upon one another, — with 
their mighty circumvallations, — their circuses 
roaring night and day, — their reservoirs filled 
with ocean-brine and peopled with whales and 
leviathans, — their colossal stairways, — their su- 
per-imposition of terraces, — their tower-summits 
bathed in clouds, — their giant palaces, — their 
aqueducts, — their multitude-vomiting gates, — 
their shadowy necropoli. Alas ! henceforth only 
plaster hives upon chessboard pavements ! 

One marvels that men did not revolt against 
such confiscation of all riches and all living forces 
for the benefit of a few privileged ones ; and that 
such exorbitant fantasies should not have en- 
countered any opposition on their bloody way. 
It was because those prodigious lives were the 
realizations by day of the dreams which haunted 
each man by night, — the personifications of the 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


55 


common ideal which the nations beheld living 
symbolized under one of those meteoric names 
that flame inextinguishably through the night of 
ages. To-day, deprived of such dazzling specta- 
cles of omnipotent will, — of the lofty contem- 
plation of some human mind, whose least wish 
makes itself visible in actions unparalleled, — in 
enormities of granite and brass, — the world be- 
comes irredeemably and hopelessly dull : man is 
no longer represented in the realization of his 
imperial fancy. 

The story which we are writing, and the great 
name of Cleopatra which appears in it, have 
prompted us to these reflections, — so ill-sound- 
ing, doubtless, to modern ears. But the specta- 
cle of the antique world is something so 
crushingly discouraging, even to those imagina- 
tions which deem themselves exhaustless, and 
those minds which fancy themselves to have con- 
ceived the utmost limits of fairy magnificence, 
that we cannot here forbear recording our regret 
and lamentation that we were not cotemporaries 
of Sardanapalus, — of Teglathphalazar, — of Cleo- 
patra, queen of Egypt, — or even of Elagabalus, 
emperor of Rome and priest of the Sun. 

It is our task to describe a supreme orgie, — 
a banquet compared with which the splendors of 


56 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


Belshazzar’s feast must pale, — one of Cleopatra’s 
nights ! How can we picture forth in this French 
tongue, so chaste, so icily prudish, that unbounded 
transport of passions, — that huge and mighty 
debauch which feared not to mingle the double 
purple of wine and blood, — those furious out- 
bursts of insatiate pleasure, madly leaping toward 
the Impossible with all the wild ardor of senses 
as yet untamed by the long fast of Christianity ? 

The promised night should well have been a 
splendid one ; for all the joys and pleasures pos- 
sible in a human lifetime were to be concentrated 
into the space of a few hours ; — it was neces- 
sary that the life of Me'iamoun should be con- 
verted into a powerful elixir, which he could 
imbibe at a single draught. Cleopatra desired to 
dazzle her voluntary victim, and plunge him into 
a whirlpool of dizzy pleasures, — to intoxicate and 
madden him with the wine of orgie ; so that 
death, though freely accepted, might come invis- 
ibly and unawares. 

Let us transport our readers to the banquet- 
hall ! 

Our existing architecture offers few points for 
comparison with those vast edifices whose very 
ruins resemble the crumblings of mountains 
rather than the remains of buildings. It needed 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


57 


all the exaggeration of the antique life to animate 
and fill those prodigious palaces, whose halls were 
too lofty and vast to allow of any ceiling save the 
sky itself, — a magnificent ceiling, and well worthy 
of such mighty architecture ! 

The banquet-hall was of enormous and Baby- 
lonian dimensions ; the eye could not penetrate 
its immeasurable depth: monstrous columns — 
short, thick and solid enough to sustain the pole 
itself, — heavily expanded their broad-swelling 
shafts upon socles variegated with hieroglyphics, 
and sustained upon their bulging capitals gigantic 
arcades of granite rising by successive tiers, like 
vast stairways reversed. Between each two pil- 
lars a colossal sphinx of basalt, crowned with 
the pschent , bent forward her oblique-eyed face 
and horned chin, and gazed into the hall with a 
fixed and mysterious look. The columns of the 
second tier, receding from the first, were more 
elegantly formed, and crowned in lieu of capitals 
with four female heads addorsed, wearing caps of 
many folds and all the intricacies of the Egyp- 
tian headdress : instead of sphinxes bull-headed 
idols, — impassive spectators of nocturnal frenzy 
and the furies of orgie, — were seated upon 
thrones of stone, like patient hosts awaiting the 
opening of the banquet. 


53 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


A third story constructed in a yet different 
style of architecture — with elephants of bronze 
spouting perfume from their trunks — crowned 
the edifice : above the sky yawned like a blue 


and the curious stars leaned over the 



frieze.* 

Prodigious stairways of porphyry, so highly 
polished that they reflected the human body like 
a mirror, ascended and descended on every hand, 
and bound together these huge masses of archi- 
tecture. 

We can only make a very rapid sketch here, in 
order to convey some idea of this awful structure, 
proportioned out of all human measurements. 
It would require the pencil of Martin,! — the 

* Does not this suggest the lines which DeQuincey so much ad- 


mired : — 


“ A wilderness of building, sinking far, 

And self-withdrawn into a wondrous depth. 
Far sinking into splendor, — without end 1 
Fabric it seemed of diamond, and of gold, 
With alabaster domes and silver spires, 
And blazing terrace upon terrace, high 
Uplifted : here serene pavilions bright, 

In avenues disposed ; their towers begirt 
With battlements that on their restless fronts 
Bore stars. ” 


f John Martin, the English painter, whose creations were unparalleled 
in breadth and depth of composition. His pictures seem to have made 
a powerful impression upon the highly imaginative author of these Ro- 
mances. There is something in these descriptions of antique architec- 
ture that suggests the influence of such pictured fantasies as Martin’s 
“ Seventh Plague ; ” “ The Heavenly City ; ” and perhaps especially 
the famous* “ Pandemonium, ” with its infernal splendor, in Martin’s il- 
lustrations to “ Paradise Lost. ” — [Trans. 


ONE OF CLE OP A TEA’S NIGHTS. 


59 


great painter of enormities passed away ; and we 
can present only a weak pen-picture in lieu of the 
Apocalyptic depth of his gloomy style : but im- 
agination may supply our deficiencies; — less 
fortunate than the painter and the musician, we 
can only present objects and ideas separately in 
slow succession. We have as yet spoken of the 
banquet-hall only, without referring to the guests; 
and yet we have but barely indicated its charac- 
ter. Cleopatra and Meïamoun are waiting for 

us : we see them drawing near 

Meïamoun was clad in a linen tunic constel- 
lated with stars, and a purple mantle, and wore a 
fillet about his locks, like an Oriental king. 
Cleopatra was appareled in a robe of pale green, 
open at either side, and clasped with golden bees: 
two bracelets of immense pearls gleamed around 
her naked arms ; upon her head glimmered the 
golden-pointed diadem. Despite the smile on her 
lips, a slight cloud of preoccupation shadowed 
her fair forehead ; and from time to time her brows 
became knitted in a feverish manner. What 
thoughts could trouble the great queen ? As for 
Meïamoun, his face wore the ardent and lumi- 
nous look of one in ecstasy or vision, — light 
beamed and radiated from his brow and temples, 
surrounding his head with a golden nimbus like 
one of the twelve great gods of Olympus. 


6o 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


A deep, heartfelt joy illumined his every fea- 
ture: he had embraced his restless-winged chi- 
mera; and it had not flown from him; — he 
had reached the goal of his life. Though he were 
to live to the age of Nestor or Priam, — though 
he should behold his veined temples hoary with 
locks whiter than those of the high priest of 
Ammon, he could never know another new ex- 
perience, — never feel another new pleasure. His 
maddest hopes had been so much more than real- 
ized that there was nothing in the world left for 
him to desire. 

Cleopatra seated him beside her upon a throne 
with golden griffins on either side, and clapped 
her little hands together. Instantly lines of fire, 
bands of sparkling light, outlined all the projec- 
tions of the architecture : the eyes of the sphinxes 
flamed with phosphoric lightnings ; — the bull- 
headed idols breathed flame ; — the elephants, in 
lieu of perfumed water, spouted aloft bright 
columns of crimson fire; — arms of bronze, each 
bearing a torch, started from the walls ; and blaz- 
ing aigrettes bloomed in the sculptured hearts of 
the lotos flowers. 

Huge blue flames palpitated in tripods of brass; 
giant candelabras shook their disheveled light in 
the midst of ardent vapors : everything sparkled, 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


6 1 


glittered, beamed. Prismatic irises crossed and 
shattered each other in the air : the facets of the 
cups, the angles of the marbles and jaspers, the 
chiseling of the vases, — all caught a sparkle, a 
gleam, or a flash as of lightning. Radiance 
streamed in torrents, and leaped from step to step 
like a cascade over the porphyry stairways ; it 
seemed the reflection of a conflagration on some 
broad river; — had the Queen of Sheba ascended 
thither she would have caught up the folds of her 
robe, and believed herself walking in water, as 
when she stepped upon the crystal pavements of 
Solomon. Viewed through that burning haze, the 
monstrous figures of the colossi, the animals, 
the hieroglyphics, seemed to become ani- 
mated and to live with a factitious life ; the black 
marble rams bleated ironically, and clashed their 
gilded horns ; the idols breathed harshly through 
their panting nostrils. 

The orgie was at its height : the dishes of 
phenicopters* tongues, and the livers of scarus 
fish ; the eels fattened upon human flesh, and 
cooked in brine ; the dishes of peacock’s brains ; 
the boars stuffed with living birds ; — and all the 
marvels of the antique banquets were heaped 
upon the three table-surfaces of the gigantic tri- 
clinium. The wines of Crete, of Massicus, and 


62 


ONE OF CLE OP A TEA’S NIGHTS. 


of Falernus foamed up in cratera wreathed with 
roses, and filled by Asiatic pages whose beautiful 
flowing hair served the guests to wipe their hands 
upon. Musicians playing upon the sistrum, the 
tympanum, the sambuke, and the harp with one- 
and-twenty strings, filled all the upper galleries, 
and mingled their harmonies with the tempest of 
sound that hovered over the feast : even the deep- 
voiced thunder could not have made itself heard 
there. 

Meïamoun, whose head was lying on Cleopatra’s 
shoulder, felt as though his reason were leaving 
him : the banquet-hall whirled around him like a 
vast architectural nightmare ; — through the dizzy 
glare he beheld perspectives and colonnades with- 
out end ; — new zones of porticoes seemed to up- 
rear themselves upon the real fabric, and bury 
their summits in heights of sky to which Babel 
never rose. Had he not felt within his hand the 
soft, cool hand of Cleopatra, he would have be- 
lieved himself transported into an enchanted 
world by some witch of Thessaly or Magian of 
Persia. 

Toward the close of the repast, hump-backed 
dwarfs and mummers engaged in grotesque dances 
and combats : then young Egyptian and Greek 
maidens representing the black and white Hours 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


63 


danced with inimitable grace a voluptuous dance 
after the Ionian manner. 

Cleopatra herself arose from her throne, threw 
aside her royal mantle, replaced her starry diadem 
with a garland of flowers, attached golden crotali * 
to her alabaster hands, and began to dance before 
Meïamoun, who was ravished with delight. Her 
beautiful arms, rounded like the handles of an 
alabaster vase, shook out bunches of sparkling 
notes ; and her crotali prattled with ever-increas- 
ing volubility. Poised on the pink tips of her 
little feet, she approached swiftly to graze the 
forehead of Meïamoun with a kiss: — then she 
recommenced her wondrous art, and flitted around 
him ; now backward-leaning, with head reversed, 
eyes half closed, arms lifelessly relaxed, locks un- 
curled and loose-hanging like a Bacchante of 
Mount Mænalus ; now again, active, animated, 
laughing, fluttering — more tireless and capricious 
in her movements than the pilfering bee. Heart- 
consuming love, — sensual pleasure, — burning 
passion, — youth inexhaustible and ever-fresh, — 
the promise of bliss to come: she expressed 
all! . . . 

The modest stars had ceased to contemplate 
the scene: their golden eyes could not endure 


* Antique castanets. — [Trans. 


64 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


such a spectacle: the heaven itself was blotted 
out; and a dome of flaming vapor covered the 
hall. 

Cleopatra seated herself once more by Meïa- 
moun. Night advanced : the last of the black 
Hours was about to take flight ; — a faint blue 
glow entered with bewildered aspect into the 
tumult of ruddy light as a moonbeam falls into 
a furnace ; — the upper arcades became suffused 
with pale azure tints : day was breaking. 

Meïamoun took the horn vase which an 
Ethiopian slave of sinister countenance presented 
to him, and which contained a poison so violent 
that it would have caused any other vase to burst 
asunder. Flinging his whole life to his mistress 
in one last look, he lifted to his lips the fatal 
cup in which the envenomed liquor boiled up, 
hissing. 

Cleopatra turned pale, and laid her hand on 
Meïamoun ’s arm to stay the act. His courage 
touched her; — she was about to say, — “Live 
to love me yet : I desire it ! . . . . ” when 

the sound of a clarion was heard. Four her- 
alds-at-arms entered the banquet-hall on horse- 
back ; they were officers of Mark Antony, and 
rode but a short distance in advance of their 
master. Cleopatra silently loosened the arm of 


ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS. 


65 


Meïamoun. A long ray of sunlight suddenly 
played upon her forehead, as though trying to re- 
place her absent diadem. 

“ You see the moment has come : it is day- 
break ; it is the hour when happy dreams take 
flight, ” said Meïamoun. Then he emptied the 
fatal vessel at a draught ; and fell as through 
struck by lightning. Cleopatra bent her head ; 
and one burning tear, — the only one she had 
ever shed, — fell into her cup to mingle with the 
molten pearl. 

“ By Hercules, my fair queen ! I made all 
speed in vain, — I see I have come too late, ” cried 
Mark Antony, entering the banquet-hall, — “the 
supper is over. But what signifies this corpse 
upon the pavement ? ” 

“ Oh, nothing ! ” returned Cleopatra with a 
smile ; — “ only a poison I was testing with the 
idea of using it upon myself should Augustus 
take me prisoner. — My dear lord, will you not 
please to take a seat beside me, and watch those 
Greek buffoons dance ? ” 


CLARIMONDE.* 


Brother, you ask me if I have ever loved: yes! 
My story is a strange and terrible one; and, 
though I am sixty-six years of age, I scarcely dare 
even now to disturb the ashes of that memory. 
To you I can refuse nothing; but I should not 
relate such a tale to any less experienced mind. 
So strange were the circumstances of my story, 
that I can scarcely believe myself to have ever 
actually been a party to them. For more than 
three years I remained the victim of a most sin- 
gular and diabolical illusion. Poor country priest 
though I was, I led every night in a dream, 
— would to God it had been all a dream ! — a 
most worldly life, a damning life, a life of Sardana- 
palus. One single look too freely cast upon a 
woman well-nigh caused me to lose my soul ; but 
finally by the grace of God and the assistance of 
my patron saint, I succeeded in casting out the 
evil spirit that possessed me. My daily life was 
long interwoven with a nocturnal life of a totally 
different character. By day I was a priest of the 


*“ La Morte Amoureuse .’ 


( 66 ) 


CLARIMONDE. 


67 


Lord, occupied with prayer and sacred things : — 
by night, — from the instant that I closed my 
eyes I became a young nobleman, — a fine con- 
noisseur in women, dogs, and horses ; gambling, 
drinking, and blaspheming: and when I awoke 
at early day-break, it seemed to me on the other 
hand that I had been sleeping, and had only 
dreamed that I was a priest. Of this somnam- 
bulistic life there now remains to me only the 
recollection of certain scenes and words which I 
cannot banish from my memory ; but although I 
never actually left the walls of my presbytery one 
would think to hear me speak that I were a man 
who, weary of all worldly pleasures, had become a 
religious, seeking to end a tempestuous life in the 
service of God, — rather than an humble semin- 
arist who has grown old in this obscure curacy 
situated in the depths of the woods and even 
isolated from the life of the century. 

Yes: I have loved as none in the world evei 
loved, — with an insensate and furious passion, — 
so violent that I am astonished it did not cause 
my heart to burst asunder. Ah ! what nights! — 
what nights ! 

From my earliest childhood I had felt a voca- 
tion to the priesthood, so that all my studies were 
directed with that idea in view ; up to the age of 


68 


CLARIMONDE. 


twenty-four, my life had been only a prolonged 
novitiate. Having completed my course of theo- 
logy I successively received all the minor orders ; 
and my superiors judged me worthy, despite my 
youth, to pass the last awful degree. My ordina- 
tion was fixed for Easter week. 

I had never gone into the world : my world 
was confined by the walls of the college and the 
seminary. I knew in a vague sort of a way that 
there was something called Woman ; but I never 
permitted my thoughts to dwell on such a sub- 
ject ; and I lived in a state of perfect innocence. 
Twice a year only I saw my infirm and aged 
mother; and in those visits were comprised my 
sole relations with the outer world. 

I regretted nothing : I felt not the least hesita- 
tion at taking the last irrevocable step ; — I was 
filled with joy and impatience. Never did a 
betrothed lover count the slow hours with more 
feverish ardor ; — I slept only to dream that I was 
saying mass ; — I believed there could be nothing 
in the world more delightful than to be a priest : 
I would have refused to be a king or a poet in 
preference. My ambition could conceive of no 
loftier aim. 

I tell you this in order to show you that what 
happened to me could not have happened in the 


CL A RIMONDE. 


69 


natural order of things; and to enable you to 
understand that I was the victim of an inexplica- 
ble fascination. 

At last the great day came: I walked to the 
church with a step so light that I fancied myself 
sustained in air, or that I had wings upon my 
shoulders : I believed myself an angel, and won- 
dered at the somber and thoughtful faces of my 
companions, — for there were several of us. I 
had passed all the night in prayer, and was in a 
condition well-nigh bordering on ecstacy. The 
bishop, a venerable old man, seemed to me God 
the Father leaning over his Eternity, and I beheld 
Heaven through the vault of the temple. 

You well know the details of that ceremony, — 
the benediction, the communion under both 
forms, the anointing of the palms of the hands 
with the Oil of Catechumens, and then the holy 
sacrifice offered in concert with the bishop. 

Ah ! truly spake Job when he declared that 
the imprudent man is one who hath not made a 
covenant with his eyes ! — I accidentally lifted my 
head, which until then I had kept down, and be- 
held before me, so close that it seemed that I 
could have touched her — although she was 
actually a considerable distance from me and on 
the further side of the sanctuary railing, — a 


70 


CL. 2RIM0NDE. 


young woman of extraordinary beauty, and attired 
with royal magnificence. It seemed as though 
scales had suddenly fallen from my eyes : I felt 
like a blind man who unexpectedly recovers his 
sight. The bishop, so radiantly glorious but an 
instant before, suddenly vanished away; the tapers 
paled upon their golden candlesticks like stars in 
the dawn ; and a vast darkness seemed to fill the 
whole church. The charming creature appeared 
in bright relief against the background of that 
darkness, like some angelic revelation : she 
seemed herself radiant and radiating light rather 
than receiving it. 

I lowered my eyelids, firmly resolved not to 
again open them, that I might not be influenced 
by external objects ; for distraction had gradually 
taken possession of me until I hardly knew what 
I was doing. 

In another minute nevertheless I reopened my 
eyes ; for through my eyelashes I still beheld her, 
all sparkling with prismatic colors, and surround- 
ed with such a purple penumbra as one beholds 
in gazing at the sun. 

Oh ! how beautiful she was ! The greatest 
painters, who followed ideal beauty into heaven 
itself, and thence brought back to earth the true 
portrait of the Madonna, never in their delinea- 


CL A RIM ONDE, 


7 1 


tions even approached that wildly beautiful reality 
which I saw before me. Neither the verses of 
the poet nor the palette of the artist could con- 
vey any conception of her. She was rather tall, 
with the form and bearing of a goddess : her 
hair, of a soft blond hue, was parted in the midst 
and flowed back over her temples in two 
rivers of rippling gold ; — she seemed a diademed 
queen: her forehead, bluish-white in its trans- 
parency, extended its calm breadth above the 
arches of her eyebrows, which by a strange sin- 
gularity were almost black, and admirably relieved 
the effect of sea-green eyes of unsustainable viva- 
city and brilliancy. What eyes! — with a single 
flash they could have decided a man’s destiny : 
they had a life, a limpidity, an ardor, a humid 
light which I have never seen in human eyes ; — 
they shot forth rays like arrows, which I could dis- 
tinctly see enter my heart. I know not if the fire 
which illumined them came from heaven or from 
hell ; but assuredly it came from one or the other. 
That woman was either an angel or a demon, 
perhaps both : assuredly she never sprang from 
the flank of Eve, our common mother. Teeth 
of the most lustrous pearl gleamed in her ruddy 
smile, and at every inflection of her lips little 
dimples appeared in the satiny rose of her ador- 


7 2 


CL A RIMONDE. 


able cheeks. There was a delicacy and pride in 
the regal outline of her nostrils, bespeaking noble 
blood. Agate gleams played over the smooth 
lustrous skin of her half-bare shoulders ; and 
strings of great blonde pearls — almost equal to 
her neck in beauty of color — descended upon 
her bosom. From time to time she elevated her 
head with the undulating grace of a startled ser- 
pent or peacock, thereby imparting a quivering 
motion to the high lace ruff which surrounded 
it like a silver trellis-work. 

She wore a robe of orange-red velvet ; and 
from her wide ermine-lined sleeves there peeped 
forth patrician hands of infinite delicacy, and so 
ideally transparent that, like the fingers of 
Aurora, they permitted the light to shine through 
them. 

All these details I can recollect at this moment 
as plainly as though they were of yesterday ; for 
notwithstanding I was greatly troubled at the 
time nothing escaped me : — the faintest touch of 
shading, — the little dark speck at the point of 
the chin, — the imperceptible down at the corners 
of the lips, — the velvety floss upon the brow, the 
quivering shadows of the eyelashes upon the 
cheeks, — I could notice everything with aston- 
ishing lucidity of perception. 


CL A RIMONDE. 


73 


And gazing I felt opening within me gates 
that had until then remained closed ; vents long 
obstructed became all clear, permitting glimpses 
of unfamiliar perspectives within; — life suddenly 
made itself visible to me under a totally novel 
aspect : I felt as though I had just been born 
into a new world and a new order of things. A 
frightful anguish commenced to torture my heart 
as with red-hot pincers : every successive minute 
seemed to me at once but a second and yet a 
century. Meanwhile the ceremony was proceed- 
ing ; and I shortly found myself transported far 
from that world of which my newly-born desires 
were furiously besieging the entrance. Never- 
theless I answered “Yes” when I wished to say 
“No,” — though all within me protested against 
the violence done to my soul by my tongue. 
Some occult power seemed to force the words 
from my throat against my will. Thus it is, per- 
haps, that so many young girls walk to the altar 
firmly resolved to refuse in a startling manner, 
the husband imposed upon them ; and that yet 
not one ever fulfills her intention. Thus it is, 
doubtless, that so many poor novices take the 
veil, though they have resolved to tear it into 
shreds at the moment when called upon to utter 
the vows. One dares not thus cause so great a 


74 


CLARIMONDE . 


scandal to all present, nor deceive the expecta- 
tion of so many people: all those eyes, — all 
those wills seem to weigh down upon you like a 
cope of lead ; and moreover measures have been 
so well taken, — everything has been so 
thoroughly arranged beforehand and after a 
fashion so evidently irrevocable, that the will 
yields to the weight of circumstances, and utterly 
breaks down. 

As the ceremony proceeded, the features of the 
fair unknown changed their expression. Her 
look had at first been one of caressing tender- 
ness : it changed to an air of disdain and of 
mortification, as though at not having been able 
to make itself understood. 

With an effort of will sufficient to have up- 
rooted a mountain, I strove to cry out that I 
would not be a priest ; but I could not speak ; 
my tongue seemed nailed to my palate, and I 
found it impossible to express my will by the 
least syllable of negation. Though fully awake, 
I felt like one under the influence of a nightmare, 
who vainly strives to shriek out the one word 
upon which life depends. 

She seemed conscious of the martyrdom I was 
undergoing; and, as though to encourage me, 
she gave me a look replete with divinest promise. 


CL A RIMONDE. 


7 5 


Her eyes were a poem : their every glance was a 
song. 

She said to me : — 

“ If thou wilt be mine, I shall make thee hap- 
pier than God himself in his paradise : the angels 
themselves will be jealous of thee. Tear off that 
funeral shroud in which thou art about to wrap 
thyself; I am Beauty, — I am Youth, — I am 
Life, — come to me ! — together we shall be Love. 
Can Jehovah offer thee aught in exchange ? Our 
lives will flow on like a dream, — in one eternal 
kiss. 

“ Fling forth the wine of that chalice ; and thou 
art free. I will conduct thee to the Unknown 
Isles; thou shalt sleep in my bosom upon a bed 
of massy gold under a silver pavilion: — for I 
love thee and would take thee away from thy God, 
before whom so many noble hearts pour forth 
floods of love which never reach even the steps of 
His throne !” 

These words seemed to float to my ears in a 
rhythm of infinite sweetness; — for her look was 
actually sonorous ; and the utterances of her eyes 
were reechoed in the depths of my heart as though 
living lips had breathed them into my life. I felt 
myself willing to renounce God ; and yet my 
tongue mechanically fulfilled all the formalities of 


76 


CLARIMONDE. 


the ceremony. The fair one gave me another 
look, — so beseeching, so despairing that keen 
blades seemed to pierce my heart ; and I felt my 
bosom transfixed by more swords than those of 
Our Lady of Sorrows. 

All was consummated : I had become a 
priest. 

Never was deeper anguish painted on hu- 
man face than upon hers: — the maiden who be- 
holds her affianced lover suddenly fall dead at 
her side ; the mother bending over the empty 
cradle of her child; Eve seated at the thresh- 
old of the gate of Paradise ; the miser who 
finds a stone substituted for his stolen treasure ; 
the poet who accidentally permits the only manu- 
script of his finest work to fall into the fire, 
could not wear a look so despairing, so inconsol- 
able. All the blood had abandoned her charming 
face, leaving it whiter than marble ; her beautiful 
arms hung lifelessly on either side of her body as 
though their muscles had suddenly relaxed ; and 
she sought the support of a pillar, for her yield- 
ing limbs almost betrayed her. As for myself, I 
staggered towards the door of the church, livid 
as death, my forehead bathed with a sweat 
bloodier than that of Calvary ; — I felt as though 
I were being strangled; — the vault seemed to 


CLARIMONDE. 


77 


have flattened down upon my shoulders ; — and 
it seemed to me that my head alone sustained the 
whole weight of the dome. 

As I was about to cross the threshold a hand 
suddenly caught mine, — a woman’s hand ! I had 
never till then touched the hand of any woman. 
It was cold as a serpent’s skin ; and yet its im- 
press remained upon my wrist, burnt there as 
though branded by a glowing iron. It was she. 
“Unhappy man! — unhappy man! — what hast 
thou done ? ” she exclaimed in a low voice, and 
immediately disappeared in the crowd. 

The aged bishop passed by : he cast a severe 
and scrutinizing look upon me. My face pre- 
sented the wildest aspect imaginable ; I blushed 
and turned pale alternately ; dazzling lights 
flashed before my eyes. A companion took pity 
on me : he seized my arm and led me out ; — I 
could not possibly have found my way back to the 
seminary unassisted. At the corner of a street, 
while the young priest’s attention was momenta- 
rily turned in another direction, a negro page, 
fantastically garbed, approached me ; and without 
pausing on his way slipped into my hand a little 
pocket-book with gold-embroidered corners, at the 
same time giving me a sign to hide it. I con- 
cealed it in my sleeve, and there kept it until I 


78 


CL A RIMONDE. 


found myself alone in my cell. Then I opened 
the clasp; — there were only two leaves within, 
bearing the words : — “ Clarimonde : At the Con- 
cini Palace. ” So little acquainted was I at that 
time with the things of this world that I had 
never heard of Clarimonde, celebrated as she 
was ; and I had no idea as to where the Concini 
Palace was situated. I hazarded a thousand con- 
jectures, each more extravagant than the last; 
but, in truth, I cared little whether she were a 
great lady or a courtesan, so that I could but see 
her once more. 

My love, although the growth of a single hour, 
had taken imperishable root : I did not even 
dream of attempting to tear it up, so fully was I 
convinced such a thing would be impossible. 
That woman had completely taken possession of 
me, — one look from her had sufficed to change 
my very nature : she had breathed her will into 
my life, and I no longer lived in myself, but in 
her, and for her. I gave myself up to a thousand 
extravagancies ; — I kissed the place upon my 
hand which she had touched, and I repeated 
her name over and over again for hours in 
succession. I only needed to close my eyes 
in order to see her distinctly as though she 
were actually present ; and I reiterated to myself 


CL A RI MONDE. 


79 


the words she had uttered in my ear at the church 
porch: “Unhappy man! — unhappy man! — 

what hast thou done ? ” I comprehended at last 
the full horror of my situation ; and the funereal 
and awful restraints of the state into which I had 
just entered became clearly revealed to me. To 
be a priest ! — that is, to be chaste, — to never 
love, — to observe no distinction of sex or age, 
— to turn from the sight of all beauty, — 
to put out one’s own eyes, — to hide forever 
crouching in the chill shadows of some church or 
cloister, — to visit none but the dying, — to watch 
by unknown corpses, and ever bear about with 
one the black soutan as a garb of mourning for 
one’s self — so that your very dress might serve 
as a pall for your coffin. 

And I felt life rising within me like a sub- 
teranean lake, expanding and overflowing ; my 
blood leaped fiercely through my arteries ; my 
long-restrained youth suddenly burst into active 
being, like the aloe which blooms but once in a 
hundred years, and then bursts into blossom 
with a clap of thunder. 

What could I do in order to see Clarimonde 
once more ? I had no pretext to offer for desir- 
ing to leave the seminary, not knowing any per- 
son in the city: I would not even be able to 


8o 


CL A R IMONDE. 


remain there but a short time, and was only 
waiting my assignment to the curacy which I 
must thereafter occupy. I tried to remove the 
bars of the window; but it was at a fearful 
height from the ground, and I found that as I 
had no ladder it would be useless to think of 
escaping thus. And furthermore I could descend 
thence only by night in any event; and after- 
wards how should I be able to find my way 
through the inextricable labyrinth of streets? 
All these difficulties, which to many would have 
appeared altogether insignificant, were gigantic 
to me, a poor seminarist who had fallen in love 
only the day before for the first time, — without 
experience, without money, without attire. 

“ Ah ! ” cried I to myself in my blindness, — 
“were I not a priest I could have seen her every 
day; I might have been her lover, her spouse: 
instead of being wrapped in this dismal shroud of 
mine, I would have had garments of silk and vel- 
vet, golden chains, a sword, and fair plumes like 
other handsome young cavaliers. My hair, in- 
stead of being dishonored by the tonsure, would 
flow down upon my neck in waving curls ; I 
would have a fine waxed moustache ; — I would 
be a gallant. ” But one hour passed before an 
altar, a few hastily articulated words, had forever 


CLARIMONDE. 


cut me off from the number of the living ; and 
I had myself sealed down the stone of my own 
tomb, — I had with my own hand bolted the gate 
of my prison ! 

I went to the window : — the sky was beauti- 
fully blue ; the trees had donned their spring 
robes ; nature seemed to be making parade of an 
ironical joy. The Place was filled with people, 
some going, others coming ; young beaux and 
young beauties were sauntering in couples toward 
the groves and gardens ; — merry youths passed 
by, cheerily trolling refrains of drinking songs: — it 
was all a picture of vivacity, life, animation, 
gaiety, which formed a bitter contrast with my 
mourning and my solitude. On the steps of the 
gate sat a young mother, playing with her child : 
she kissed its little rosy mouth still impearled with 
drops of milk ; and performed in order to amuse 
it a thousand divine little puerilities such as only 
mothers know how to invent. The father stand- 
ing at a little distance smiled gently upon the 
charming group, and with folded arms seemed to 
hug his joy to his heart. I could not endure that 
spectacle : I closed the window with violence, and 
flung myself on my bed, my heart filled with 
frightful hate and jealousy; and gnawed my fin- 
gers and my bedcovers like a tiger that has passed 
ten days without food. 


82 


CLA RIMONDE. 


I know not how long I remained in this condi- 
tion ; but at last while writhing on the bed in a fit of 
spasmodic fury, I suddenly perceived the Abbé 
Sérapion, who was standing erect in the center of 
the room, watching me attentively. Filled with 
shame of myself, I let my head fall upon my 
breast and covered my face with my hands. 

“ Romuald, my friend, something very extraor- 
dinary is transpiring within you,” observed Séra- 
pion, after a few moments’ silence; “your con- 
duct is altogether inexplicable! You, — always 
so quiet, so pious, so gentle, — you to rage in 
your cell like a wild beast! Take heed, brother! 
— do not listen to the suggestions of the devil : 
the Evil Spirit, furious that you have consecrated 
yourself forever to the Lord, is prowling around 
you like a ravening wolf and making a last effort 
to obtain possession of you. Instead of allowing 
yourself to be conquered, my dear Romuald, 
make to yourself a cuirass of prayers, — a buckler 
of mortifications ; and combat the enemy like a 
valiant man : you will then assuredly overcome 
him. Virtue must be proved by temptation ; and 
gold comes forth purer from the hands of the 
assayer. Fear not ! — never allow yourself to be- 
come discouraged: the most watchful and stead- 
fast souls are at moments liable to such tempta- 


CLARIMONDE . 


83 


tion. Pray, fast, meditate ; and the Evil Spirit 
will depart from you.” 

The words of the Abbé Sérapion restored me 
to myself ; and I became a little more calm. “ I 
came,” he continued, “ to tell you that you have 
been appointed to the curacy of C . . : 

the priest who had charge of it has just died; and 
Monseigneur the Bishop has ordered me to have 
you installed there at once. Be ready, therefore, 
to start to-morrow.” I responded with an inclina- 
tion of the head, and the Abbé retired. I opened 
my missal and commenced reading some prayers ; 
but the letters became confused, and blurred 
under my eyes; the thread of the ideas entangled 
itself hopelessly in my brain ; and the volume at 
last fell from my hands without my being aware 
of it. 

To leave to-morrow without having been able to 
see her again! — to add yet another barrier to the 
many already interposed between us! — to lose 
forever all hope of being able to meet her, except, 
indeed, through a miracle ! Even to write her, 
alas ! would be impossible ; for by whom could I 
despatch my letter? With my sacred character of 
priest, to whom could I dare unbosom myself ? — 
in whom could I confide ? I became a prey to 
the bitterest anxiety. 


8 4 


CLARIMONDE. 


Then suddenly recurred to me the words of 
the Abbé Sérapion regarding the artifices of the 
devil : and the strange character of the adventure, 
— the supernatural beauty of Clarimonde, the 
phosphoric light of her eyes, the burning imprint 
of her hand, the agony into which she had thrown 
me, the sudden change wrought within me when 
all my piety vanished in a single instant, — these 
and other things clearly testified to the work of 
the Evil One ; and perhaps that satiny hand was 
but the glove which concealed his claws. Filled 
with terror at these fancies, I again picked up the 
missal which had slipped from my knees and 
fallen upon the floor, and once more gave myself 
up to prayer. 

Next morning Sérapion came to take me away: 
two mules freighted with our miserable valises 
awaited us at the gate ; — he mounted one, and I 
the other as well as I knew how. 

As we passed along the streets of the city, I 
gazed attentively at all the windows and balconies 
in the hope of seeing Clarimonde ; but it was yet 
early in the morning, and the city had hardly 
opened its eyes. Mine sought to penetrate the 
blinds and window-curtains of all the palaces 
before which we were passing. Sérapion doubt- 
less attributed this curiosity to my admiration of 


CL A RIM ONDE. 


85 


the architecture ; for he slackened the pace of his 
animal in order to give me time to look around 
me. At last we passed the city gates and com- 
menced to mount the hill beyond. When we 
arrived at its summit I turned to take a last look 
at the place where Clarimonde dwelt. The 
shadow of a great cloud hung over all the city ; 
the contrasting colors of its blue and red roofs 
were lost in the uniform half-tint, through which 
here and there floated upward, like white flakes 
of foam, the smoke of freshly kindled fires. By 
a singular optical effect, one edifice, which sur- 
passed in height all the neighboring buildings 
that were still dimly veiled by the vapors, towered 
up, fair and lustrous with the gilding of a solitary 
beam of sunlight: although actually more than 
a league away it seemed quite near. The small- 
est details of its architecture were plainly distin- 
guishable, — the turrets, the platforms, the window- 
casements, and even the swallow-tailed weather 
vanes. 

“ What is that palace I see over there, all 
lighted up by the sun? ” — I asked of Sérapion. 
He shaded his eyes with his hand, and having 
looked in the direction indicated, replied: “ It is 
the ancient palace which the Prince Concini has 
given to the courtesan Clarimonde : awful things 
are done there ! ” 


86 


CLARIMONDE . 


At that instant, — I know not yet whether it 
was a reality or an illusion, — I fancied I saw 
gliding along the terrace, a shapely white figure, 
which gleamed for a moment in passing and as 
quickly vanished. It was Clarimonde. 

Oh, did she know, that at that very hour, all 
feverish and restless, — from the height of the 
rugged road which separated me from her and 
which, alas ! I could never more descend, — I was 
directing my eyes upon the palace where she 
dwelt, and which a mocking beam of sunlight 
seemed to bring nigh to me, as though inviting 
me to enter therein as its lord? Undoubtedly 
she must have known it ; for her soul was too 
sympathetically united with mine not to have felt 
its least emotional thrill ; and that subtle sympathy 
it must have been which prompted her to climb, 
— although clad only in her night-dress — to the 
summit of the terrace, amid the icy dews of the 
morning. 

The shadow gained the palace ; and the scene 
became to the eye only a motionless ocean of 
roofs and gables, amid which one mountainous 
undulation was distinctly visible. Sérapion urged 
his mule forward ; my own at once followed at 
the same gait : and a sharp angle in the road 
at last hid the city of S # # forever from my 


CL A RIM ONDE. 


87 


eyes, as I was destined never to return thither. 
At the close of a weary three-days’ journey 
through dismal country fields, we caught sight of 
the cock upon the steeple of the church which I 
was to take charge of, peeping above the trees ; 
and after having followed some winding roads 
fringed with thatched cottages and little gardens, 
we found ourselves in front of the façade, which 
certainly possessed few features of magnificence. 
A porch ornamented with some mouldings, and 
two or three pillars rudely hewn from sandstone ; 
a tiled roof with counterforts of the same sand- 
stone as the pillars, — that was all: to the left lay 
the cemetery overgrown with high weeds, and 
having a great iron cross rising up in its center ; 
to the right stood the presbytery, under the 
shadow of the church. It was a house of the 
most extreme simplicity and frigid cleanliness. 
We entered the enclosure: a few chickens were 
picking up some oats scattered upon the ground; 
— accustomed, seemingly, to the black habit of 
ecclesiastics, they showed no fear of our presence 
and scarcely troubled themselves to get out of our 
way. A hoarse, wheezy barking fell upon our 
ears ; and we saw an aged dog running toward us. 

It was my predecessor’s dog: he had dull 
bleared eyes, grizzled hair, and every mark of the 


88 


CL A RI MONDE. 


greatest age to which a dog can possibly attain. 
I patted him gently ; and he proceeded at once 
to march along beside me with an air of satis- 
faction unspeakable. A very old woman, who 
had been the housekeeper of the former curé 
also came to meet us ; and after having invited 
me into a little back parlor, asked whether I in- 
tended to retain her. I replied that I would take 
care of her, and the dog, and the chickens, and all 
the furniture her master had bequeathed her at his 
death. At this she became fairly transported 
with joy, and the Abbé Sérapion at once paid 
her the price which she asked for her little 
property. 

As soon as my installation was over, the Abbé 
Sérapion returned to the seminary. I was, there- 
fore, left alone, with no one but myself to look 
to for aid or counsel. The thought of Clari- 
monde again began to haunt me ; and in spite of 
all my endeavors to banish it, I always found it 
present in my meditations. One evening while 
promenading in my little garden along the walks 
bordered with box-plants, I fancied that I saw 
through the elm trees the figure of a woman, who 
followed my every movement, and that I beheld 
two sea-green eyes gleaming through the foliage : 
but it was only an illusion ; and on going round to 


CL A RIM ONDE. 


89 


the other side of the garden, I could find nothing 
except a footprint on the sanded walk, — a foot- 
print so small that it seemed to have been made 
by the foot of a child. The garden was enclosed 
by very high walls : I searched every nook and 
corner of it, but could discover no one there. I 
have never succeeded in fully accounting for this 
circumstance, which after all was nothing com- 
pared with the strange things which happened to 
me afterward. 

For a whole year, I lived thus, filling all the 
duties of my calling with the most scrupulous 
exactitude ; praying and fasting ; exhorting and 
lending ghostly aid to the sick ; and bestowing 
alms even to the extent of frequently depriving 
myself of the very necessaries of life. But I 
felt a great aridness within me ; and the sources 
of grace seemed closed against me. I never 
found that happiness which should spring from 
the fulfillment of a holy mission ; my thoughts 
were far away ; and the words of Clarimonde 
were ever upon my lips, like an involuntary 
refrain. O, brother, meditate well on this! 
Through having but once lifted my eyes to look 
upon a woman, — through one fault apparently so 
venial, — I have for years remained a victim to 
the most miserable agonies, and the happiness of 
my life has been destroyed forever. 


90 


CL A RIMONDE, 


I will not longer dwell upon those defeats, or 
on those inward victories invariably followed by 
yet more terrible falls ; but will at once proceed 
to the facts of my story. One night my door 
bell was long and violently rung. The aged 
housekeeper arose and opened to the stranger ; 
and the figure of a man, whose complexion was 
deeply bronzed, and who was richly clad in a 
foreign costume, with a poniard at his girdle, ap- 
peared under the rays of Barbara’s lantern. Her 
first impulse was one of terror ; but the 
stranger reassured her, and stated that he desired 
to see me at once on matters relating to my holy 
calling. Barbara invited him up stairs, where I 
was on the point of retiring. The stranger told 
me that his mistress, a very noble lady, was lying 
at the point of death, and desired to see a priest. 
I replied that I was prepared to follow him, took 
with me the sacred articles necessary for extreme 
unction; and descended in all haste. Two horses 
black as the night itself stood without the gate, 
pawing the ground with impatience, and veiling 
their chests with long streams of smoky vapor 
exhaled from their nostrils. He held the stirrup 
and aided me to mount upon one ; then, merely 
laying his hand upon the pummel of the saddle, 
he vaulted on the other, pressed the animal’s 


CL A RIMONDE. 


91 


sides with his knees, and loosened rein. The 
horse bounded forward with the velocity of an 
arrow ; mine of which the stranger held the 
bridle, also started off at a swift gallop, keeping 
up with his companion. We devoured the road : 
the ground flowed backward beneath us in a long 
streaked line of pale grey ; and the black silhou- 
ettes of the trees seemed fleeing by us on either 
side like an army in rout. We passed through a 
forest so profoundly gloomy that I felt my flesh 
creep in the chill darkness with superstitious fear. 
The showers of bright sparks which flew 
from the stony road under the ironshod feet of 
our horses, remained glowing in our wake like a 
fiery trail ; and had any one at that hour of the 
night beheld us both — my guide and myself, — 
he must have taken us for two spectres riding 
upon night-mares. Witch-fires ever and anon 
flitted across the road before us ; and the night- 
birds shrieked fearsomely in the depth of the 
woods beyond, where we beheld at intervals glow 
the phosphorescent eyes of wild cats. The 
manes of the horses became more and more dis- 
heveled : the sweat streamed over their flanks ; 
and their breath came through their nostrils hard 
and fast. But when he found them slacking pace, 
the guide reanimated them by uttering a strange, 


92 


CLARIMONDE. 


guttural, unearthly cry; and the gallop recom- 
menced with fury. At last the whirlwind race 
ceased : a huge black mass pierced through with 
many bright points of light suddenly rose before 
us ; the hoofs of our horses echoed louder upon a 
strong wooden drawbridge ; and we rode under a 
great vaulted archway which darkly yawned be- 
tween two enormous towers. Some great excite- 
ment evidently reigned in the castle : servants 
with torches were crossing the courtyard in every 
direction ; and, above, lights were ascending and 
descending from landing to landing. I obtained 
a confused glimpse of vast masses of architecture, 
— columns, arcades, flights of steps, stairways: a 
royal voluptuousness and elfin magnificence of 
construction worthy of Fairyland. A negro 
page, — the same who had before brought me the 
tablet from Clarimonde, and whom I instantly 
recognized, — approached to aid me in dismount- 
ing; and the major-domo, attired in black velvet 
with a gold chain about his neck, advanced to 
meet me, supporting himself upon an ivory cane. 
Large tears were falling from his eyes and stream- 
ing over his cheeks and white beard. “ Too 
late ! ” he cried, sorrowfully shaking his venerable 
head: “too late, sir priest ! — but if you have not 
been able to save the soul, come at least to watch 
by the poor body. ” 


CLAR/MONDE. 


93 


He took my arm and conducted me to the 
death chamber: I wept not less bitterly than he; 
for I had learned that the dead one was none other 
than that Clarimonde whom I had so deeply and 
so wildly loved. A prie-dieu stood at the foot of 
the bed ; a blueish flame flickering in a bronze 
patera filled all the room with a wan, deceptive 
light, here and there bringing out in the darkness 
at intervals some projection of furniture or cor- 
nice. In a chiseled urn upon the table, there was 
a faded white rose, whose leaves, — excepting one 
that still held, — had all fallen, like odorous tears, 
to the foot of the vase : a broken black mask, a 
fan, and disguises of every variety, which were 
lying on the arm chairs, bore witness that death 
had entered suddenly and unannounced into that 
sumptuous dwelling. Without daring to cast my 
eyes upon the bed, I knelt down and commenced 
to repeat the Psalms for the Dead with exceed- 
ing fervor: thanking God that he had placed the 
tomb between me and the memory of this woman, 
so that I might thereafter be able to utter her 
name in my prayers as a name forever sanctified 
by death. But my fervor gradually weakened; 
and I fell insensibly into a reverie. That cham- 
ber bore no semblance to a chamber of death. 
In lieu of the fœtid and cadaverous odors which 


94 


CL A RIMONDE. 


I had been accustomed to breathe during such 
funereal vigils, — a languorous vapor of Oriental 
perfume,, — I know not what amorous odor of 
woman, — softly floated through the tepid air. 
That pale light seemed rather a twilight gloom 
contrived for voluptuous pleasure, than a substi- 
tute for the yellow-flickering watch-tapers which 
shine by the side of corpses. I thought upon 
the strange destiny which enabled me to meet 
Clarimonde again at the very moment when she 
was lost to me forever; and a sigh of regretful 
anguish escaped from my breast. Then it seemed 
to me that some one behind me had also sighed ; 
and I turned round to look. It was only an echo. 
But in that moment my eyes fell upon the bed of 
death which they had till then avoided. The red 
damask curtains, decorated with large flowers 
worked in embroidery, and looped up with gold 
bullion, permitted me to behold the fair dead, 
lying at full length, with hands joined upon her 
bosom. She was covered with a linen wrapping 
of dazzling whiteness, which formed a strong 
contrast with the gloomy purple of the hangings, 
and was of so fine a texture that it concealed 
nothing of her body’s charming form, and allowed 
the eye to follow those beautiful outlines, — un- 
dulating like the neck of a swan, — which even 


CL A RIMONDE. 


95 


death had not robbed of their supple grace. She 
seemed an alabaster statue executed by some 
skillful sculptor to place upon the tomb of a 
queen ; or rather, perhaps, like a slumbering 
maiden over whom the silent snow had woven a 
spotless veil. 

I could no longer maintain my constrained at- 
titude of prayer: — the air of the alcove intoxi- 
cated me ; that febrile perfume of half-faded roses 
penetrated my very brain ; — and I commenced to 
pace restlessly up and down the chamber, paus- 
ing at each turn before the bier to contemplate 
the graceful corpse lying beneath the transpa- 
rency of its shroud. Wild fancies came throng- 
ing to my brain : — I thought to myself that she 
might not, perhaps, be really dead, — that she 
might only have feigned death for the purpose of 
bringing me to her castle, and then declaring her 
love. At one time I even thought I saw her 
foot move under the whiteness of the coverings, 
and slightly disarrange the long, straight folds of 
the winding sheet. 

And then I asked myself : “ Is this indeed 

Clarimonde ? — what proof have I that it is she ? 
Might not that black page have passed into the 
service of some other lady? Surely, I must be 
going mad, — to torture and afflict myself thus!” 


9 6 


CL A RIM ONDE. 


But my heart answered with a fierce throbbing: 
“It is she ; it is she indeed ! ” I approached the 
bed again, and fixed my eyes with redoubled at- 
tention upon the object of my incertitude. Ah ! 
must I confess it? — that exquisite perfection of 
bodily form, although purified and made sacred 
by the shadow of death, affected me more vo- 
luptuously than it should have done ; and that 
repose so closely resembled slumber, that one 
might well have mistaken it for such. I forgot 
that I had come there to perform a funeral cere- 
mony ; — I fancied myself a young bridegroom 
entering the chamber of the bride who all 
modestly hides her fair face, and through coyness 
seeks to keep herself wholly veiled. Heartbroken 
with grief, — yet wild with hope, — shuddering 
at once with fear and pleasure, I bent over her, 
and grasped the corner of the sheet : I lifted it 
back, — holding my breath all the while through 
fear of waking her. My arteries throbbed with 
such violence that I felt them hiss through my 
temples : and the sweat poured from my forehead 
in streams, as though I had lifted a mighty slab of 
marble. There, indeed, lay Clarimonde, even as 
I had seen her at the church on the day of my 
ordination : she was not less charming than then ; 
— with her, death seemed but a last coquetry. 


CL A RIMONDE. 


97 


The pallor of her cheeks, the less brilliant carna- 
tion of her lips, her long eyelashes lowered and 
relieving their dark fringe against that white 
skin, lent her an unspeakably seductive aspect of 
melancholy chastity and mental suffering; her 
long loose hair, still intertwined with some little 
blue flowers, made a shining pillow for her head, 
and veiled the nudity of her shoulders with their 
thick ringlets : her beautiful hands, purer, more 
diaphanous than the Host, were crossed on her 
bosom in an attitude of pious rest and silent 
prayer, which served to counteract all that might 
x have proven otherwise too alluring, — even after 
death, — in the exquisite roundness and ivory 
polish of her bare arms from which the pearl 
bracelets had not yet been removed. I remained 
long in mute contemplation ; and the more I 
gazed, the less could I persuade myself that life 
had really abandoned that beautiful body forever. 

I do not know whether it was an illusion, or a 
reflection of the lamplight; but it seemed to -me 
that the blood was again commencing to circulate 
under that lifeless pallor, although she remained 
all motionless. I laid my hand lightly on her 
arm : it was cold, but not colder than her hand 
on the day when it touched mine at the portals 
of the church. I resumed my position, bending 


9 8 


CLARIMONDE. 


my face above hers, and bathing her cheeks with 
the warm dew of my tears. Ah ! what bitter 
feelings of despair and helplessness, — what 
agonies unutterable did I endure in that long 
watch ! Vainly did I wish that I could have 
gathered all my life into one mass that I might 
give it all to her, and breathe into her chill re- 
mains the flame which devoured me. The night 
advanced ; and, feeling the moment of eternal 
separation approach, I could not deny myself the 
last sad sweet pleasure of imprinting a kiss upon 
the dead lips of her who had been my only love. 

. . O, miracle ! — a faint breath mingled itself 

with my breath ; and the mouth of Clarimonde 
responded to the passionate pressure of mine : 
her eyes unclosed, and lighted up with something 
of their former brilliancy ; she uttered a long 
sigh, and uncrossing her arms, passed them 
around my neck with a look of ineffable delight. 
“ Ah ! it is thou, Romuald ! ” — she murmured in 
a voice languishingly sweet as the last vibrations 
of a harp : “ what ailed thee, dearest ? I waited 
so long for thee that I am dead ; but we are now 
betrothed ; I can see thee and visit thee. Adieu, 
Romuald! adieu! — I love thee: that is all I 
wished to tell thee; and I give thee back the life 
which thy kiss for a moment recalled ; we shall 
soon meet again. ” 


CLARIMONDE. 


99 


Her head fell back ; but her arms yet encircled 
me, as though to retain me still. A furious whirl- 
wind suddenly burst in the window, and entered 
the chamber ; the last remaining leaf of the white 
rose for a moment palpitated at the extremity of 
the stalk like a butterfly’s wing; — then it de- 
tached itself and flew forth through the open 
casement, bearing with it the soul of Clarimonde. 
The lamp was extinguished ; and I fell insensi- 
ble upon the bosom of the beautiful dead. 

When I came to myself again, I was lying on 
the bed in my little room at the presbytery ; and 
the old dog of the former curé was licking my 
hand which had been hanging down outside of 
the covers. Barbara, all trembling with age and 
anxiety, was busying herself about the room, 
opening and shutting drawers, and emptying 
powders into glasses. On seeing me open my 
eyes, the old woman uttered a cry of joy; the 
dog yelped and wagged his tail : but I was still 
so weak that I could not speak a single word, 
or make the slightest motion. Afterwards I 
learned that I had lain thus for three days ; giv- 
ing no evidence of life beyond the faintest respi- 
ration. Those three days do not reckon in my 
life, nor could I ever imagine whither my spirit 
had departed during those three days : I have 


100 


CL A RIMONDE. 


no recollection of aught relating to them. Bar- 
bara told me that the same coppery-complexioned 
man who came to seek me on the night of my 
departure from the presbytery, had brought me 
back the next morning in a close litter, and de- 
parted immediately afterward. When I became 
able to collect my scattered thoughts, I reviewed 
within my mind all the circumstances of that 
fateful night. At first, I thought I had been the 
victim of some magical illusion ; but ere long 
the recollection of other circumstances, real and 
palpable in themselves, came to forbid that sup- 
position. I could not believe that I had been 
dreaming, since Barbara as well as myself, had 
seen the strange man with his two black horses, 
and described with exactness every detail of his 
figure and apparel. Nevertheless it appeared 
that none knew of any castle in the neighbor- 
hood, answering to the description of that in 
which I had again found Clarimonde. 

One morning I found the Abbé Sérapion in 
my room. Barbara had advised him that I was 
ill ; and he had come with all speed to see me. 
Although this haste on his part testified t6 an af- 
fectionate interest in me, yet his visit did not 
cause me the pleasure which it should have done. 
The Abbé Sérapion had something penetrating 


CZ.ARIMONDE. 


IOI 


and inquisitorial in his gaze which made me feel 
very ill at ease. His presence filled me with em- 
barrassment, and a sense of guilt. At the first 
glance he divined my interior trouble; and I 
hated him for his clairvoyance. 

While he enquired after my health in hypocriti- 
cally honeyed accents, he constantly kept his two 
great yellow lion-eyes fixed upon me, and plunged 
his look into my soul like a sounding lead. 
Then he asked me how I directed my parish, — 
if I was happy in it, — how I passed the leisure 
hours allowed me in the intervals of pastoral 
duty, — whether I had become acquainted with 
many of the inhabitants of the place, — what was 
my favorite reading ; and a thousand other such 
questions. I answered these inquiries as briefly 
as possible ; and he, without ever waiting for my 
answers, passed rapidly from one subject of query 
to another. That conversation had evidently no 
connection with what he actually wished to say. 
At last without any premonition, but as though 
repeating a piece of news which he had recalled 
on the instant, and feared might otherwise be for- 
gotten subsequently, he suddenly said in a clear 
vibrant voice which rang in my ears like the 
trumpets of the Last J udgment : — 

“ The great courtesan Clarimonde died a few 


102 


CL A RIMONDE. 


days ago, at the close of an orgie which lasted 
eight days and eight nights. It was something 
infernally splendid. The abominations of the 
banquets of Belshazzar and Cleopatra were re- 
enacted there. Good God! what age are we 
living in ? The guests were served by swarthy 
slaves who spoke an unknown tongue, and who 
seemed to me to be veritable demons: — the 
livery of the very least among them would have 
served for the gala-dress of an emperor. There 
have always been very strange stories told of this 
Clarimonde ; and all her lovers came to a violent 
or miserable end. They used to say that she was 
a ghoul, — a female vampire; but I believe she 
was none other than Beelzebub himself. ” 

He ceased to speak and commenced to regard 
me more attentively than ever, — as though to 
observe the effect of his words on me. I could 
not refrain from starting, when I heard him utter 
the name of Clarimonde; and this news of her 
death, in addition to the pain it caused me 
by reason of its coincidence with the nocturnal 
scenes I had witnessed, filled me with an agony 
and terror which my face betrayed, despite my 
utmost endeavors to appear composed. Sérapion 
fixed an anxious and severe look upon me ; and 
then observed : “ My son, I must warn you that 


CL A RIAfONDE. 


103 


you are standing with foot raised upon the brink of 
an abyss : take heed lest you fall therein. Satan’s 
claws are long ; and tombs are not always true to 
their trust. The tombstone of Clarimonde should 
be sealed down with a triple seal ; for, if report be 
true, it is not the first time she has died. May 
God watch over you, Romuald ! ” 

And with these words the Abbé walked slowly 
to the door. I did not see him again at that 
time; for he left for S * # almost immedi- 

ately. 

I became completely restored to health ; and 
resumed my accustomed duties. The memory 
of Clarimonde and the words of the old Abbé 
were constantly in my mind : nevertheless, no ex- 
traordinary event had occurred to verify the 
funereal predictions of Sérapion : and I had com- 
menced to believe that his fears and my own 
terrors were over-exaggerated, when one night I 
had a strange dream. I had hardly fallen asleep 
when I heard my bed-curtains drawn apart, as 
their rings slided back upon the curtain rod with 
a sharp sound : I rose up quickly upon my elbow, 
and beheld the shadow of a woman standing 
erect before me. I recognized Clarimonde im- 
mediately. She bore in her hand a little lamp, 
shaped like those which are placed in tombs ; and 


104 


CLARIMONDE. 


its light lent her fingers a rosy transparency, 
which extended itself by lessening degrees even 
to the opaque and milky whiteness of her bare 
arm. Her only garment was the linen winding 
sheet which had shrouded her when lying upon 
the bed of death ; — she sought to gather its 
folds over her bosom as though ashamed of being 
so scantily clad ; but her little hand was not equal 
to the task : she was so white that the color of 
the drapery blended with that of her flesh under 
the pallid rays of the lamp. Enveloped with this 
subtle tissue which betrayed all the contours of her 
body, she seemed rather the marble statue of some 
fair antique bather, than a woman endowed with 
life. But dead or living, statue or woman, shadow 
or body, her beauty was still the same ; — only 
that the green light of her eyes was less brilliant; 
— and her mouth, once so warmly crimson, was 
only tinted with a faint tender rosiness, like that 
of her cheeks. The little blue flowers which I 
had noticed entwined in her hair, were withered 
and dry, and had lost nearly all their leaves, but 
this did not prevent her from being charming, — 
so charming that notwithstanding the strange 
character of the adventure, and the unexplainable 
manner in which she had entered my room, I felt 
not even for a moment the least fear. 


CL A R/MONDE. 


105 


She placed the lamp on the table and seated 
herself at the foot of my bed : then bending to- 
ward me, she said in that voice at once silvery 
clear and yet velvety in its sweet softness, — such 
as I never heard from any lips save hers : 

“ I have kept thee long in waiting, dear Ro- 
muald ; and it must have seemed to thee that I 
had forgotten thee. But I come from afar off, 
— very far off ; and from a land whence no other 
has ever yet returned : there is neither sun nor 
moon in that land whence I come ; all is but 
space and shadow: — there is neither road nor 
pathway: no earth for the foot, no air for the 
wing: and nevertheless behold me here ; for Love 
is stronger than Death and must conquer him in 
the end. O what sad faces and fearful things I 
have seen on my way hither! — what difficulty 
my soul, returned to earth through the power of 
will alone, has had in finding its body and rein- 
stating itself therein ! — what terrible efforts I 
had to make ere I could lift the ponderous slab 
with which they had covered me ! See ! the palms 
of my poor hands are all bruised ! — Kiss them, 
sweet love, that they may be healed ! ” She laid 
the cold palms of her hands upon my mouth, one 
after the other : I kissed them, indeed, many 
times; and she the while watched me with a 
smile of ineffable affection. 


io6 


CL A R/MONDE. 


I confess to my shame that I had entirely for- 
gotten the advice of the Abbé Sérapion and the 
sacred office wherewith I had been invested. I 
had fallen without resistance, and at the first as- 
sault. I had not even made the least effort to 
repel the tempter: the fresh coolness of Clari- 
monde’s skin penetrated my own ; and I felt 
voluptuous tremors pass over my whole body. 
Poor child ! in spite of all I saw afterward, I can 
hardly yet believe she was a demon; — at least 
she had no appearance of being such, and never 
did Satan so skillfully conceal his claws and 
horns. She had drawn her feet up beneath her, 
and squatted down on the edge of the couch in 
an attitude full of negligent coquetry. From 
time to time she passed her little hand through 
my hair and twisted it into curls, as though trying 
how a new style of wearing it would become my 
face. I abandoned myself to her hands with the 
most guilty pleasure ; while she accompanied her 
gentle play with the prettiest prattle. The most 
remarkable fact was that I felt no astonishment 
whatever at so extraordinary an adventure ; and 
as in dreams one finds no difficulty in accepting 
the most fantastic events as simple facts, so all 
these circumstances seemed to me perfectly nat- 
ural in themselves. 


CL A RIMONDE. 


107 


“ I loved thee long ere I saw thee, dear Ro- 
muald ; and sought thee everywhere. Thou wast 
my dream ; and I first saw thee in the church at 
the fatal moment: I said at once, — ‘It is he ! ’ 
I gave thee a look into which I threw all the love 
I ever had, all the love I now have, all the love I 
shall ever have for thee, — a look that would have 
damned a Cardinal, or brought a king to his 
knees at my feet in view of all his court. Thou 
remainedst unmoved ; preferring thy God to me ! 

“ Ah ! how jealous I am of that God whom 
thou didst love and still lovest more than me ! 

“ Woe is me ! unhappy one that I am! I can 
never have thy heart all to myself, — I whom 
thou didst recall to life with a kiss, — dead Clari- 
monde who for thy sake bursts asunder the gates 
of the tomb, and comes to consecrate to thee a 
life which she has resumed only to make thee 
happy ! ” K 

All her words were accompanied with the most 
impassioned caresses, which bewildered my sense 
and my reason to such an extent that I did not 
fear to utter a frightful blasphemy for the sake 
of consoling her, and to declare that I loved her 
as much as God. 

Her eyes rekindled and shone like chrysop rases. 
“ In truth ? — in very truth ? — as much as God I ” 


io8 


CL A R/MONDE. 


she cried, flinging her beautiful arms around me. 
“ Since it is so, thou wilt come with me ; thou 
wilt follow me whithersoever I desire. Thou wilt 
cast away thy ugly black habit. Thou shalt be the 
proudest and most envied of cavaliers : thou 
shalt be my lover ! To be the acknowledged 
lover of Clarimonde, who has refused even a 
Pope, — that will be something to feel proud of ! 
Ah ! the fair, unspeakably happy existence, — the 
beautiful golden life we shall live together ! And 
when shall we depart, my fair sir ? ” 

“To-morrow! to-morrow!” I cried in my de- 
lirium. 

“ To-morrow, then ; so let it be ! ” she answered. 
“In the meanwhile I shall have opportunity to 
change my toilet ; for this is a little too light, and 
in nowise suited for a voyage. I must also 
forthwith notify all my friends who believe me 
dead, and mourn for me as deeply as they are 
capable of doing. The money, the dresses, the 
carriages, — all will be ready: I shall call for thee 
at this same hour. Adieu, dear heart ! ” And 
she lightly touched my forehead with her lips. 
The lamp went out ; the curtains closed again ; 
and all became dark: — a leaden, dreamless sleep 
fell on me and held me unconscious until the 
morning following. 


CLARIMONDE. 


109 


I awoke later than usual ; and the recollection 
of this singular adventure troubled me during 
the whole day. I finally persuaded myself that 
it was a mere vapor of my heated imagination. 
Nevertheless its sensations had been so vivid that 
it was difficult to persuade myself that they were 
not real ; and it was not without some presenti- 
ment of what was going to happen that I got into 
bed at last, after having prayed God to drive far 
from me all thoughts of evil, and to protect the 
chastity of my slumber. 

I soon fell into a deep sleep, and my dream was 
continued. The curtains again parted ; and I be- 
held Clarimonde, — not, as on the former occasion 
pale in her pale winding sheet, with the violets 
of death upon her cheeks ; but gay, sprightly, 
jaunty, — in a superb traveling dress of green 
velvet, trimmed with gold lace, and looped up on 
either side, to allow a glimpse of satin petticoat. 
Her blonde hair escaped in thick ringlets from 
beneath a broad black felt hat, decorated with 
white feathers whimsically twisted into various 
shapes : in one hand she held a little riding whip 
terminated by a golden whistle. She tapped me 
lightly with it, and exclaimed, — “Well, my fine 
sleeper : is this the way you make your prepara- 
tions ? I thought I would find you up and 


no 


CL A RIMONDE. 


dressed ! Arise quickly : we have no time to 
lose. ” 

I leaped out of bed at once. 

“ Come ! dress yourself ; and let us go, ” she 
continued, pointing to a little package she had 
brought with her; — “the horses are becoming 
impatient of delay and champing their bits at the 
door. We ought to have been by this time at 
least ten leagues distant from here. ” 

I dressed myself hurriedly; and she handed 
me the articles of apparel herself, one by one,— 
bursting into laughter from time to time at my 
awkwardness, as she explained to me the use of 
a garment when I had made a mistake. She hur- 
riedly arranged my hair ; and, this done, held up 
before me a little pocket mirror of Venetian 
crystal, rimmed with silver filagree-work : and 
playfully asked, — “ How dost find thyself now? 
Wilt engage me for thy valet-de-chambre ? ” 

I was no longer the same person ; and I could 
not even recognize myself. I resembled my for- 
mer self no more than a finished statue resembles 
a block of stone. My old face seemed but a coarse 
daub of the one reflected in the mirror. I was 
handsome; and my vanity was sensibly tickled 
by the metamorphosis. That elegant apparel, 
that richly embroidered vest had made of me a 


LL A RIM ONDE. 


1 1 1 


totally different personage ; and I marveled at 
the power of transformation owned by a few 
yards of cloth cut after a certain pattern. The 
spirit of my costume penetrated my very skin ; 
and within ten minutes more I had become some- 
thing of a coxcomb. 

In order to feel more at ease in my new attire, 
I took several turns up and down the room. 
Clarimonde watched me with an air of maternal 
pleasure, and appeared well satisfied with her 
work. “ Come ! enough of this child’s-play ! — 
let us start, Romuald, dear: we have far to go, 
and we may not get there in time. ” She took 
my hand, and led me forth. All the doors opened 
before her at a touch ; and we passed by the dog 
without awaking him. 

At the gate we found Margheritone waiting, — 
the same swarthy groom who had once before 
been my escort: he held the bridles of three 
horses, all black like those which bore us to the 
castle, — one for me, one for him, one for Clari- 
monde. Those horses must have been Spanish 
genets born of mares fecundated by a zephyr; 
for they were fleet as the wind itself, and the moon 
which had just risen at our departure to light us 
on the way, rolled over the sky like a wheel de- 
tached from her own chariot: we beheld heron the 


1 12 


CLARIMONDE. 


right leaping from tree to tree, and putting herself 
out of breath in the effort to keep up with us. 
Soon we came upon a level plain where hard by 
a clump of trees, a carriage with four vigorous 
horses awaited us : we entered it ; and the postil- 
lions urged their animals into a mad gallop. I 
had one arm around Clarimonde’s waist, and one 
of her hands clasped in mine; her head leaned 
upon my shoulder, and I felt her bosom, half 
bare, lightly pressing against my arm. I had 
never known such intense happiness. In that 
hour I had forgotten everything ; and I no more 
remembered having ever been a priest than I re- 
membered what I had been doing in my mother’s 
womb, — so great was the fascination which the 
evil spirit exerted upon me. From that night my 
nature seemed in some sort to have become 
halved ; and there were two men within me, 
neither of whom knew the other. At one moment 
I believed myself a priest who dreamed nightly 
that he was a gentleman ; at another that I was a 
gentleman who dreamed he was a priest. I 
could no longer distinguish the dream from the 
reality, — nor could I discover where the reality 
began, or where ended the dream. The exquisite 
young lord and libertine railed at the priest ; the 
priest loathed the dissolute habits of the young 


CL A RIMONDE. 


113 


lord. Two spirals entangled and confounded the 
one with the other, yet never touching, would 
afford a fair representation of this bicephalic life 
which I lived. Despite the strange character of 
my condition, I do not believe that I ever in- 
clined, — even for a moment, — to madness. I 
always retained with extreme vividness all the 
perceptions of my two lives. Only, there was 
one absurd fact which I could not explain to my- 
self ; — namely, that the consciousness of the 
same individuality existed in two men so opposite 
in character. It was an anomaly for which I 
could not account, — whether I believed myself 
to be the Cure of the little village of S # 
or, II Signor Romualdo , the titled lover of Clari- 
monde. 

Be that as it may, 1 lived, — at least I believed 
that I lived, — in Venice: I have never been 
able to discover rightly how much of illusion and 
how much of reality there was in this fantastic 
adventure. We dwelt in a great palace on the 
Canaleio, filled with frescoes and statues, and 
containing two Titians in the noblest style of the 
great master, which were hung in Clarimonde’s 
chamber : it was a palace well worthy of a king. 
We had each our gondola, our barcarolli in family 
livery, our music hall, and our special poet. Clari- 


CL A RIMONDE. 


1 14 


monde always lived upon a magnificent scale: 
there was something of Cleopatra in her nature. 
As for me, I had the retinue of a prince’s son; 
and I was regarded with as much reverential re- 
spect as though I had been of the family of one 
of the twelve Apostles or the four Evangelists 
of the Most Serene Republic : I would not have 
turned aside to allow even the Doge to pass; and 
I do not believe that since Satan fell from 
heaven, any creature was ever prouder or more 
insolent than I. I went to the Ridotto, and 
played with a luck which seemed absolutely in- 
fernal. I received the best of all society, — the 
sons of ruined families, women of the theatre, 
shrewd knaves, parasites, hectoring swash-buck- 
lers. But notwithstanding the dissipation of such 
a life, I always remained faithful to Clarimonde. 
I loved her wildly. She would have excited 
satiety itself, and chained inconstancy. To have 
Clarimonde was to have twenty mistresses, — aye, 
to possess all women : so mobile, so varied of 
aspect, so fresh in new charms was she all in her- 
self; — a very chameleon of a woman, in sooth. 
She made you commit with her the infidelity you 
would have committed with another, by donning 
to perfection the character, the attraction, the 
style of beauty of the woman who appeared to 


CL A RIM ONDE. 


US 

please you. She returned my love a hundred 
fold ; and it was in vain that the young patri- 
cians and even the Ancients of the Council of 
Ten, made her the most magnificent proposals. 
A Foscari even went so far as to offer to espouse 
her : she rejected all his overtures. Of gold she 
had enough : she wished no longer for anything 
but love, — a love youthful, pure, evoked by her- 
self, and which should be a first and last passion. 
I would have been perfectly happy but for a 
cursed nightmare which recurred every night, 
and in which I believed myself to be a poor vil- 
lage curé, practising mortification and penance 
for my excesses during the day. Reassured by 
my constant association with her, I never thought 
further of the strange manner in which I had be- 
come acquainted with Clarimonde. But the 
words of the Abbé Sérapion concerning her re- 
curred often to my memory, and never ceased to 
cause me uneasiness. 

For some time the health of Clarimonde had 
not been so good as usual : her complexion grew 
paler day by day. The physicians who were 
summoned could not comprehend the nature of 
her malady and knew not how to treat it. They 
all prescribed some insignificant remedies ; and 
never called a second time. Her paleness, never- 


ii 6 


CL A RIM ONDE. 


theless, visibly increased ; and she became colder 
and colder, until she seemed almost as white and 
dead as upon that memorable night in the un- 
known castle. I grieved with anguish unspeak- 
able to behold her thus slowly perishing ; and she, 
touched by my agony, smiled upon me sweetly 
and sadly with the fateful smile of those who feel 
that they must die. 

One morning I was seated at her bedside, and 
breakfasting from a little table placed close at 
hand, so that I might not be obliged to leave her 
for a single instant. In the act of cutting some 
fruit, I accidentally inflicted rather a deep gash 
on my finger. The blood immediately gushed 
forth in a little purple jet ; and a few drops spirted 
upon Clarimonde. Her eyes flashed; her face 
suddenly assumed an expression of savage and 
ferocious joy such as I had never before observed 
in her. She leaped out of her bed with animal 
agility, — the agility, as it were, of an ape ora 
cat, — and sprang upon my wound which she 
commenced to suck with an air of unutterable 
pleasure. She swallowed the blood in little 
mouthfuls, slowly and carefully, like a connois- 
seur tasting a wine from Xeres or Syracuse: 
gradually her eyelids half closed; and the pupils 
of her green eyes became oblong instead of 


CL A RIMONDE. 


ii 7 


round. From time to time she paused in order 
to kiss my hand : then she would recommence to 
press her lips to the lips of the wound in order 
to coax forth a few more ruddy drops. When 
she found that the blood would no longer come, 
she arose with eyes liquid and brilliant, rosier 
than a May dawn ; her face full and fresh, her 
hand warm and moist, — in fine, more beautiful 
than ever, and in the most perfect health. 

“ I shall not die ! — I shall not die ! ” she cried 
clinging to my neck, half mad with joy : “ I can 
love thee yet for a long time. My life is thine ; 
and all that is of me comes from thee. A few 
drops of thy rich and noble blood, more precious 
and more potent than all the elixirs of the earth, 
have given me back life ! ” 

This scene long haunted my memory, and in- 
spired me with strange doubts in regard to Clari- 
monde ; — and the same evening when slumber 
had transported me to my presbytery, I beheld 
the Abbé Sérapion, graver and more anxious of 
aspect than ever. He gazed attentively at me, 
and sorrowfully exclaimed : “ Not content with 
losing your soul, you now desire also to lose your 
body. Wretched young man, into how terrible a 
plight have you fallen ! ” The tone in which he 
uttered these words powerfully affected me ; but 


1 1 8 


CLARIMONDE . 


in spite of its vividness even that impression was 
soon dissipated, and a thousand other cares erased 
it from my mind. At last one evening while 
looking into a mirror whose traitorous position 
she had not taken into account, I saw Clarimonde 
in the act of emptying a powder into the cup of 
spiced wine, which she had long been in the 
habit of preparing after our repasts. I took the 
cup, feigned to carry it to my lips, and then 
placed it on the nearest article of furniture as 
though intending to finish it at my leisure. 
Taking advantage of a moment when the fair 
one’s back was turned, I threw the contents under 
the table ; after which I retired to my chamber 
and went to bed, fully resolved not to sleep ; but 
to watch and discover what should come of all 
this mystery. I did not have to wait long. 
Clarimonde entered in her night-dress ; and 
having removed her apparel, crept into bed and 
lay down beside me. When she felt assured that 
I was asleep, she bared my arm and drawing a 
gold pin from her hair, commenced to murmur in 
a low voice : — 

“ One drop — only one drop ! — one ruby at the 

end of my needle Since thou 

lovest me yet, I must not die ! Ah! 

poor love! — his beautiful blood, so brightly pur- 


CLARIMONDE . 


1 1 9 


pie, I must drink it. Sleep, my only treasure ! 
sleep, my god, my child ! I will do thee no 
harm ; I will only take of thy life what I must 
to keep my own from being forever extinguished. 
But that I love thee so much, I could well resolve 
to have other lovers whose veins I could drain: 
but since I have known thee, all other men have 
become hateful to me. . . . Ah, the beautiful 

arm ! — how round it is ! — how white it is ! — 
how shall I ever dare to prick this pretty blue 
vein ! ” And while thus murmuring to herself, 
she wept ; and I felt her tears raining on my arm 
as she clasped it with her hands. At last she 
took the resolve, slightly punctured me with her 
pin, and commenced to suck up the blood which 
oozed from the place. Although she swallowed 
only a few drops, the fear of weakening me soon 
seized her; and she carefully tied a little band 
around my arm, afterward rubbing the wound 
with an unguent which immediately cicatrized it. 

Further doubts were impossible: the Abbé 
Sérapion was right. Notwithstanding this posi- 
tive knowledge, however, I could not cease to 
love Clarimonde ; and I would gladly of my own 
accord have given her all the blood she required 
to sustain her factitious life. Moreover, I felt 
but little fear of her: — the woman seemed to 


120 


CL A RIM ONDE. 


plead with me for the vampire; and what I had 
already heard and seen sufficed to reassure me 
completely. In those days I had plenteous veins, 
which would not have been so easily exhausted as 
at present; and I would not have thought of 
bargaining for my blood, drop by drop. I would 
rather have opened myself the veins of my arm 
and said to her : “ Drink ; and may my love in- 
filtrate itself throughout thy body together with 
my blood ! ” I carefully avoided ever making 
the least reference to the narcotic drink she had 
prepared for me, or to the incident of the pin ; 
and we lived in the most perfect harmony. 

Yet my priestly scruples commenced to torment 
me more than ever; and I was at a loss to im- 
agine what new penance I could invent in order 
to mortify and subdue my flesh. Although these 
visions were involuntary, and though I did not 
actually participate in anything relating to them, 
I could not dare to touch the body of Christ with 
hands so impure and a mind defiled by such de- 
bauches whether real or imaginary. In the effort 
to avoid falling under the influence of these 
wearisome hallucinations, I strove to prevent my- 
self from being overcome by sleep: I held my 
eyelids open with my fingers, and stood for hours 
together leaning upright against the wall, fighting 


CL A R1M0NDE. 


121 


sleep with all my might ; but the dust of drowsiness 
invariably gathered upon my eyes at last, and 
finding all resistance useless, I would have to let 
my arms fall in the extremity of despairing weari- 
ness, and the current of slumber would again 
bear me away to the perfidious shores. Sérapion 
addressed me with the most vehement exhorta- 
tions ; severely reproaching me for my softness 
and want of fervor. Finally one day when I was 
more wretched than usual, he said to me : “ There 
is but one way by which you can obtain relief 
from this continual torment ; and though it is an 
extreme measure it must be made use of : — 
violent diseases require violent remedies. I know 
where Clarimonde is buried : it is necessary that 
we shall disinter her remains, and that you shall 
behold in how pitiable a state the object of your 
love is ; — then you will no longer be tempted to 
lose your soul for the sake of an unclean corpse 
devoured by worms, and ready to crumble into 
dust: that will assuredly restore you to yourself.” 
For my part I was so tired of this double life 
that I at once consented : desiring to ascertain 
beyond a doubt whether a priest or a gentleman 
had been the victim of delusion. I had become 
fully resolved either to kill one of the two men 
within me for the benefit of the other, or else to 


122 


CL A RIMONDE. 


kill both : for so terrible an existence could not 
last long and be endured. The Abbé Sérapion 
provided himself with a mattock, a lever, and a 
lantern ; and at midnight we wended our way to 
the cemetery of * * # , the location and 

place of which were perfectly familiar to him. 
After having directed the rays of the dark lantern 
upon the inscriptions of several tombs, we came 
at last upon a great slab, half concealed by huge 
weeds and devoured by mosses and parasitic 
plants, whereupon we deciphered the opening 
lines of the epitaph : — 

lie# ëlimmflttfo 

%Vl\o iw filmed in î xtt UU-timt 
gtf the fnm.st of women* 

“ It is here, without a doubt ! ” muttered Séra- 
pion; and placing his lantern on the ground he 
forced the point of the lever under the edge of 
the stone, and commenced to raise it. The stone 
yielded ; and he proceeded to work with the mat- 
tock. Darker and more silent than the night 
itself, I stood by and watched him do it ; while 
he, bending over his dismal toil, streamed with 
sweat, panted, and his hard-coming breath seemed 

* Ici gît Clarimonde 
Qui fut de son vivant 
La plus belle du monde. . • 

The broken beauty of the lines is unavoidably lost in the translation. 


CL A RIM ONDE. 


123 


to have the harsh tone of a death rattle. It was 
a weird scene ; and had any persons from without 
beheld us, they would assuredly have taken us 
rather for profane wretches and shroud-stealers 
than for priests of God. There was something 
grim and fierce in Sérapion’s zeal which lent him 
the air of a demon rather than of an apostle or an 
angel ; and his great aquiline face, with all its 
stern features brought out in strong relief by the 
lantern-light, had something fearsome in it which 
enhanced the unpleasant fancy. I felt an icy 
sweat come out upon my forehead in huge beads ; 
and my hair stood up with a hideous fear: — within 
the depths of my own heart I felt that the act of 
the austere Sérapion was an abominable sacrilege ; 
and I could have prayed that a triangle of fire 
jvould issue from the entrails of the dark clouds, 
heavily rolling above us, to reduce him to cinders. 
The owls which had been nestling in the cypress 
trees, startled by the gleam of the lantern, flew 
against it from time to time, — striking their dusty 
wings against its panes, and uttering plaintive 
cries of lamentation ; wild foxes yelped in the far 
darkness ; and a thousand sinister noises detached 
themselves from the silence. At last Sérapion’s 
mattock struck the coffin itself, making its planks 
re-echo with a deep sonorous sound, — with that 


124 


CLA RIM ONDE. 


terrible sound nothingness utters when stricken : 
— he wrenched apart and tore up the lid ; and I 
beheld Clarimonde, pallid as a figure of marble, 
with hands joined : her white winding-sheet made 
but one fold from her head to her feet. A little 
crimson drop sparkled like a speck of dew at one 
corner of her colorless mouth. Sérapion, at this 
spectacle, burst into fury: — “Ah! thou art here, 
demon ! — impure courtesan ! — drinker of blood 
and gold ! ” — and he flung holy water upon the 
corpse and the coffin, over which he traced the 
sign of the cross with his sprinkler. Poor Clari- 
monde had no sooner been touched by the blessed 
spray, than her beautiful body crumbled into dust, 
and became only a shapeless and frightful mass 
of cinders and half-calcined bones. 

“ Behold your mistress, my Lord Romuald ! ” — 
cried the inexorable priest as he pointed to these sad 
remains, — “ will you be easily tempted after this 
to promenade on the Lido, or at Fusina with 
your beauty ? ” I covered my face with my 
hands : a vast ruin had taken place within me. I 
returned to my presbytery ; and the noble Lord 
Romuald, — the lover of Clarimonde, — sepa- 
rated himself from the poor priest with whom he 
had kept such strange company so long. But 
once only, — the following night, — I saw Clari- 


CL A RIMONDE. 


125 


monde: — she said to me as she had said the first 
time at the portals of the church : “ U nhappy 

man, unhappy man! — what hast thou done! 
Wherefore have hearkened to that imbecile priest? 

— wert thou not happy ? — and what harm had I 
ever done thee, that thou shouldst violate my 
poor tomb, and lay bare the miseries of my noth- 
ingness ? All communication between our souls 
and our bodies is henceforth forever broken. 
Adieu ! — thou wilt yet regret me ! ” She van- 
ished in air as smoke ; and I never saw her more. 

Alas ! she spoke truly indeed : — I have re- 
gretted her more than once ; and I regret her 
still. My soul’s peace has been very dearly bought : 

— the love of God was not too much to replace 
such a love as hers. And this, brother, is the 
story of my youth. Never gaze upon a woman; 
and walk abroad only with eyes ever fixed upon 
the ground, — for however chaste and watchful 
one may be, the error of a single moment is 
enough to make one lose eternity. 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


A SOUVENIR OF POMPEII. 


Three young friends, who had undertaken an 
Italian tour together last year, visited the Studii 
Museum at Naples, where the various antique 
objects exhumed from the ashes of Pompeii and 
Herculaneum have been collected. 

They scattered through the halls, inspecting 
the mosaics, the bronzes, the frescoes detached 
from the walls of the dead city, each following 
the promptings of his own particular taste in such 
matters ; and whenever one of the party encoun- 
tered something especially curious, he summoned 
his comrades with cries of delight, much to the 
scandal of the taciturn English visitors, and the 
staid bourgeois who studiously thumbed their 
catalogues. 

But the youngest of the three, who had paused 
before a glass case, appeared wholly deaf to the 
exclamations of his comrades, so deeply had he 
become absorbed in contemplation. The object 
that he seemed to be examining with so much 
interest, was a black mass of coagulated cinders, 

(126) 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


12 7 


bearing a hollow imprint ; one might easily have 
mistaken it for the fragment of some statue-mold, 
broken in the casting; the trained eye of an artist 
would have readily therein recognized the im- 
pression of a perfect bosom and a flank as fault- 
less in its outlines as a Greek statue. It is well 
known, — indeed the commonest traveler’s guide 
will tell you, — that this lava, in cooling about the 
body of a woman, preserved its charming con- 
tours. Thanks to the caprice of the eruption 
that destroyed four cities, that noble form, though 
crumbled to dust nearly two thousand years ago, 
has come down to us; — the rounded loveliness of 
a throat has lived through the centuries in which 
so many empires perished without even leaving 
the traces of their existence; chance-imprinted 
upon the volcanic scoriæ, that seal of beauty re- 
mains unobliterated. 

Finding that he still remained absorbed in con- 
templation, Octavian’s friends returned to where 
he stood ; and Max, touching his shoulder, caused 
him to start like one surprised in a secret. Evi- 
dently Octavian had not been aware of the 
approach of Max or Fabio. 

“ Come, Octavian,” exclaimed Max, “ do not stay 
lingering whole hours before every cabinet, else 
we shall get late for the train and miss seeing 
Pompeii to-day.” 


128 


ARRIA MARCELLA . 


“ What is our comrade looking at ? ” asked 
Fabio, drawing near: — “Ah! the imprint found 
in the house of Arrius Diomedes ! ” And he 
turned a peculiar, quick glance upon Octavian. 

Octavian slightly blushed, took Max’s arm ; 
and the visit terminated without further incident. 
On leaving the Studii Museum, the three friends 
entered a corricolo , and were driven to the railway 
station. The corricolo , with its great red wheels, 
its tracket seat studded with brass nails, and its 
thin, spirited horse harnessed like a Spanish 
mule, and galloping at full speed over the great 
slabs of lava-pavement, is too familiar to need de- 
scription here ; — especially as we are not record- 
ing impressions of a trip to Naples, but the simple 
narrative of an adventure, which although true, 
may seem both fantastic and incredible in the 
extreme. 

The railroad by which Pompeii is reached, runs 
for almost its entire length by the sea, whose long 
volutes of foam advance to unroll themselves* 
upon a beach of blackish sand resembling sifted 
charcoal. This beach has actually been formed by 
lava-streams and volcanic cinders; and its deep 
tone forms a strong contrast with the blue of the 
sky and the blue of the waters. The earth alone, 
in that sunny brightness, seems able to retain a 
shadow. 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


129 


The villages bordered or traversed by the rail- 
way, — Portici, celebrated in one of Auber’s 
operas; Resina; Torre del Græco ; Torre dell’ 
Annunziata, whose dwellings with their arcades 
and terraced roofs attract the traveler’s gaze, — 
have, notwithstanding the intensity of the sun- 
light, and the southern love for whitewashing, 
something of a Plutonian and ferruginous char- 
acter like Birmingham or Manchester: the very 
dust is black there, — an impalpable soot clings 
to everything, — one feels that the mighty forge 
of Vesuvius is panting and smoking only a few 
paces off. 

The three friends left the station at Pompeii, 
laughing among themselves at the odd com- 
mingling of antique and modern ideas suggested 
by the sign, — “Pompeii Station,” — a Græco- 
Roman city, and a railway depot ! 

They crossed the cotton-field, with its fluttering 
white bolls, between the railway and the disin- 
terred city ; and at the inn which has been built 
just without the ancient ramparts, they took a 
guide, or, more correctly speaking, the guide took 
them, — a calamity which is not easily avoided in 
Italy. 

It was one of those delightful days, so common 
in Naples, when the brilliancy of the sunlight 


130 


A R RI A MARCELLA . 


and the transparency of the air cause objects to 
take such hues as in the North would be deemed 
fabulous, and appear indeed to belong to the 
world of dreams rather than to that of realities. 
The Northern visitor who has once looked upon 
that glow of azure and gold is apt to carry back 
with him into the depths of his native fogs, an 
incurable nostalgia. 

Having shaken off a corner of her cinder 
shroud, the resurrected city again rose with her 
thousand details under a dazzling day. The cone 
of Vesuvius, furrowed with striae of blue, rosy, 
and violet-hued lavas, ruddily bronzed by the sun, 
towered sharply defined in the background. A 
thin haze, almost imperceptible in the sunlight, 
hooded the blunt crest of the mountain : — at 
first sight it might have been taken for one of 
those clouds which shadow the brows of lofty 
peaks on the fairest days. Upon a nearer view, 
slender threads of white vapor could be perceived 
rising from the mountain-summit, as from the ori- 
fices of a perfuming pan, to reunite above in a 
light cloud. The volcano, being that day in a 
good humor, smoked his pipe very peacefully; 
and but for the example of Pompeii, buried at 
his feet, no one would ever have suspected him 
of being by nature any more ferocious than 


A R RI A MARCELLA. 


I3I 

Montmartre; — on the other side fair hills, with 
outlines voluptuously undulating like the hips of 
a woman, barred the horizon; and, further yet, 
the sea, that in other days bore biremes and tri- 
remes under the ramparts of the city, extended its 
azure boundary. 

Of all spectacles, the sight of Pompeii is one 
of the most surprising: — this sudden backward- 
leap of nineteen centuries astonishes even the 
least comprehensive and most prosaic natures ; — 
two paces lead you from the antique life to the 
life of to-day, and from Christianity to paganism : 
thus, when the three friends beheld those streets 
wherein the forms of a vanished past are pre- 
served yet intact, they were strangely and pro- 
foundly affected, however well prepared by the 
study of books and drawings they might have 
been. Octavian, above all, seemed stricken with 
stupefaction, and like a man walking in his sleep 
mechanically followed the guide, without hearing 
the monotonous nomenclature that the varlet had 
learned by heart and recited like a lesson. 

He gazed wildly on those ruts hollowed out in 
the cyclopean pavements of the streets by the 
chariot wheels, and which seem to be of yester- 
day, so fresh do they appear; — those inscriptions 


32 


ARR1A MARCELLA . 


in red letters skillfully traced upon the surfaces of 
the walls by rapid strokes of the brush (theatrical 
advertisements, notices of houses to let, votive 
formulas, signs, announcements of all descriptions 

— not less curious than a freshly-discovered frag- 
ment of the walls of Paris, with advertising bills 
and placards attached, would prove a thousand 
years hence for the unknown people of the 
future); — those houses, whose shattered roofs 
permit one to penetrate at a glance into all those 
interior mysteries, — all those domestic details 
which historians invariably neglect, and whereof 
the secrets die with dying civilizations; — those 
fountains that even now seem scarcely dried up ; 

— that forum whose restoration was interrupted 
by the great catastrophe, and whose architraves 
and columns all ready cut and sculptured, still 
seem waiting in their purity of angle to be lifted 
into place ; — those temples, consecrated, in that 
mythologie age when atheists were yet unknown, 
to gods that have long ceased to be ; — those 
shops wherein the merchant only is missing ; — 
that public tavern where may still be seen the 
circular stain of the drinking cups upon the mar- 
ble ; — that barracks with its ochre and minium- 
painted columns, on which the soldiers scratched 
grotesque caricatures of battle; — and those jux- 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


133 


taposed double theatres of song and drama which 
might even now resume their entertainments, 
were not the companies who performed in them 
turned long since to clay, and at present occupied 
perchance in closing the bunghole of a cask, or 
stopping a crevice in the wall, after the fashion 
of Alexander’s ashes or Cæsar’s dust, — according 
to the melancholy reflections of Hamlet ? 

Fabio mounted upon the thymele of the tragic 
theater while Max and Octavian climbed to the 
upper benches ; and there, with extravagant ges- 
tures, he commenced to recite whatever poetical 
fragments came to his memory, much to the ter- 
ror of the lizards who fled, vibrating their tails, 
and hid themselves in the joints of the ruined 
stonework. Although the brazen or earthern 
vessels, formerly used to reverberate sounds, no 
longer existed, Fabio’s voice sounded none the 
less full and vibrant. 

The guide then conducted them across the open 
fields which overlie those portions of Pompeii 
still buried, to the amphitheater situated at the 
other end of the city. They passed under those 
trees whose roots plunge down through the roofs 
of the edifices interred, — displacing tiles, cleav- 
ing ceilings asunder, and disjointing columns ; — 
and they traversed the farms where vulgar vegeta- 


34 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


bles sprout above wonders of art — material 
images of that oblivion wherewith time covers all 
things. 

The amphitheater caused them little surprise : 
they had seen that of Verona, vaster, and equally 
well preserved ; besides, the arrangement of such 
antique arenas was as familiar to them as that of 
those in which bullfights are held in Spain, and 
which they much resemble save in solidity of 
construction and beauty of material. 

Accordingly they soon retraced their footsteps, 
and gained the Street of Fortune by a cross-path, 
listening half-distractedly to the cicerone , who 
named each house they passed by the name which 
had been given it immediately upon its discovery, 
owing to some characteristic peculiarity: The 
House of the Brazen Bull, the House of the 
Faun, the House of the Ship, the Temple of For- 
tune, the House of Meleager, the Tavern of For- 
tune, at the angle of the Consular Road [Via 
Consularia], the Academy of Music, the Public 
Market, the Pharmacy, the Surgeon’s Shop, the 
Custom-House, the House of the Vestals, the Inn 
of Albinus, the Thermopolium ; — and so on, until 
they came to that gate which leads to the Street 
of the Tombs. 

Within the interior arch of this brick-built gate, 


ARRIA MARCELLA . 


135 


— once adorned with statues which have long 
since disappeared, — may be noticed two deep 
grooves designed to receive a sliding portcullis, 
after the style of a mediaeval donjon — to which 
era, indeed, one might have supposed such a 
defense peculiar. 

“Who,” exclaimed Max to his friertds, “could 
have dreamed of finding in Pompeii, the Græco- 
Latin city, a gate so romantically Gothic? Fancy 
some belated Roman knight, blowing his horn 
before this entrance, — summoning them to raise 
the portcullis — like a page of the fifteenth 
century ! ” 

“ There is nothing new under the sun,” replied 
Fabio ; “ and the aphorism itself is not new, inas- 
much as it was formulated by Solomon.” 

“ Perhaps there may be something new under 
the moon,” observed Octavian with a smile of 
melancholy irony. 

“ My dear Octavian,” cried Max, — who during 
this little conversation had paused before an in- 
scription traced in rubric upon the outer wall, — 
“ wil t behold the combats of the gladiators ? See the 
advertisement! — Combat and chase on the 5th 
day of the nones of April; — the masts of the 
velarium will be rigged ; — twenty pairs of glad- 
iators will fight during the nones ; — if youfear for 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


136 


the delicacy of your complexion, be assured that 
the awnings will be spread ; — and, as you might 
in any case prefer to visit the amphitheater 
early, these men will cut each other’s throats in 
the morning — matutini erunt : nothing could be 
more considerate ! ” 

Thus chatting, the three friends followed that 
sepulchre-fringed road which, according to our 
modern ideas, would be a lugubrious avenue for 
any city, but which had no sad significations for 
the ancients, whose tombs contained in lieu of 
hideous corpses only a pinch of dust: — abstract 
idea of death ! Art beautified these last resting- 
places ; and, as Goethe says, the pagan decorated 
sarcophagi and funeral urns with the images of 
life. 

It was therefore, doubtless, that Fabio and Max 
could visit, — with a lively curiosity and a joyous 
sense of being, such as they could not have felt 
in any Christian cemetery, — those funeral mon- 
uments, all gaily gilded by the sun, which, as they 
stood by the wayside, seemed still trying .to cling 
to life, and inspired none of those chill feelings 
of repulsion — none of those fantastic terrors 
evoked by our modern dismal places of sepulture. 
They, paused before the tomb of Mammia, the 
public priestess, near which a tree (either a 


ARRIA MARCELLA . 


137 


cypress or a willow) is growing; — they seated 
themselves in the hémicycle of the triclinium, 
where the funeral feasts were held, — laughing 
like fortunate heirs; — they read with mock so- 
lemnity the epitaphs of Navoleia, Labeon, and the 
Arria family; silently followed by Octavian, who 
seemed more deeply touched than his careless 
companions by the fate of those dead of two 
thousand years ago. 

Thus they came to the villa of Arrius Dio- 
medes, one of the finest residences in Pompeii. 
It is approached by a flight of brick steps ; and 
after entering the doorway, which is flanked by 
two small lateral columns, one finds himself in a 
court resembling the patio which occupies the 
centre of Spanish and Moorish dwellings, and 
which the ancients termed impluvium or cavce- 
dium : — fourteen columns of brick, overlaid with 
stucco, once supported on four sides a portico or 
covered peristyle, not unlike a convent cloister, 
and beneath which one could walk secure from 
the rain. This courtyard is paved in mosaic with 
brick and white marble, which presents a subdued 
and pleasing effect of color. In its centre a 
quadrilateral ' marble basin, which still exists, 
formerly caught the rain-water that dripped from 
the roof of the portico. It was a strange expe- 


138 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


rience, — entering thus into the life of the antique 
world, and treading with well-blacked boots upon 
the marbles worn smooth by the sandals and 
buskins of the contemporaries of Augustus and 
Tiberius. 

The cicerone led them through the exedra or 
summer parlor, which opened to the sea, to re- 
ceive its cooling breezes. It was there that the 
family received company, and took their siesta 
during those burning hours when prevailed the 
mighty zephyr of Africa, laden with languors and 
storms. He brought them into the basilica, a 
long open gallery which lighted the various apart- 
ments, and in which clients and visitors erst 
awaited the call of the Nomenclator; — then he 
conducted them to the white marble terrace, 
whence extended a broad view of verdant gar- 
dens and blue sea; — then he showed them the 
Nymphœum , or Hall of Baths, with its yellow- 
painted walls, its stucco columns, its mosaic pave- 
ment, and its marble bathing-basin which had 
contained so many of the lovely bodies that have 
long since passed away like shadows; the cubicu- 
lum where flitted so many dreams from the Ivory 
Gate, and whose alcoves contrived in the wall, 
were once closed by a conopeum or curtain, of 
which the bronze rings still lie upon the floor ; 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


139 


the tetrastyle, or Hall of Recreation ; the Chapel 
of the Lares; the Cabinet of Archives; the 
Library; the Museum of Paintings; th z gynœceum 
or women’s apartment, comprising a suite of 
small chambers, now half fallen into ruin, but 
whose walls yet bear traces of paintings and 
arabesques, — like fair cheeks from which the 
rouge has been but half wiped off. 

Having fully inspected all these, they descended 
to the lower floor; — for the ground is much 
lower on the garden side than it is on the side 
of the Street of the Tombs : they traversed eight 
halls painted in antique red, whereof one has its 
walls hollowed with architectural niches, after that 
style of which we have to-day a good example in 
the vestibule of the Hall of the Ambassadors at 
the Alhambra ; and finally they came to a sort of 
cave or cellar whose purpose was clearly indicated 
by eight earthen amphorae propped up against 
the wall, and once perfumed, doubtless, like the 
odes of Horace, with the wines of Crete, Faier- 
nia, or Massica. 

One solitary bright ray of sunshine streamed 
through a narrow aperture above, half-choked by 
nettles, whose light-traversed leaves it transformed 
into emeralds and topazes ; and this gay natural 


140 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


) 


detail seemed to smile opportunely through the 
sadness of the place. 

“ It was here,” observed the cicerone, in his 
customary indifferent tone, “that among seven- 
teen others, was found the skeleton of the lady 
whose mould is exhibited at the Naples museum. 
She wore gold rings; and the shreds of her fine 
tunic still clung to the mass of cinders which have 
preserved her shape.” 

The guide’s commonplace phrases deeply af- 
fected Octavian. He made the man point out 
to him the exact spot where the precious remains 
had been discovered ; and had it not been for the 
restraining presence of his friends, he would have 
abandoned himself to some extravagant lyrism ; — 
his chest heaved; his eyes glistened with a fur- 
tive moisture : though blotted out by twenty cen- 
turies of oblivion that catastrophe touched him 
like a recent misfortune ; not even the death of 
a mistress or a friend could have affected him 
more profoundly; — and while Max and Fabio 
had their backs turned, a tear, two thousand years 
late, fell upon the spot where that woman — with 
whom he felt he had fallen retrospectively in love 
— had perished, suffocated by the hot cinders of 
the volcano. 

“Enough of this archaeology,” cried Fabio; — * 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


141 

“we do not propose to write dissertations upon 
an ancient jug or a tile of the age of Julius Cæsar, 
in order to obtain memberships in some provin- 
cial academy : these classic souvenirs give me the 
stomach-ache. Let us go to dinner, — if such a 
thing be possible — in that picturesque hostelry ; 
where I fear we shall be served with fossil beef- 
steaks and fresh eggs laid prior to the death of 
Pliny.” 

“ I will not exclaim with Boileau : — 

1 Un sot, quelquefois, ouvre un avis important,’” 

— exclaimed Max, with a laugh, “that would be 
ill-mannered ; but your idea is a good one. Still, 
I think it would have been pleasant to banquet 
here, on some triclinium, reclining after the an- 
tique fashion, and waited upon by slaves accord- 
ing to the style of Lucullus or Trimalchio. It is 
true that I see no oysters from Lake Lucrinus ; 
the turbots and mullets from the Adriatic are 
wanting; the Apuleian boar can not be had in 
market ; and the loaves and honey-cakes on exhi- 
bition in the Naples Museum, lie, hard as stones, 
beside their green-gray molds ; — even raw maca- 
roni sprinkled w T ith caccia-cavallo, detestable as it 
may be, is certainly better than nothing. What 
does friend Octavian think about it ? ” 

Octavian, — who was deeply regretting that he 


142 


ARRIA MARCELLA . 


had not happened to be in Pompeii on the day of 
the eruption, so that he might have saved the 
lady of the gold rings, and thereby merited her 
love, — had not heard a syllable of this gastron- 
omic conversation. Only the last two words 
uttered by Max had fallen upon his ears; and 
feeling no desire to broach a discussion, he gave 
a random nod of assent, upon which the amica- 
ble party retraced the road along the ramparts to 
the inn. 

The table was placed under a sort of open 
porch which served as a vestibule to the hostelry, 
whose rough cast walls were decorated with vari- 
ous daubs that the host entitled “ Salvator Rosa,” 
“ Espagnolet,” “Cavalier Massimo,” — and other 
celebrated names of the Neapolitan school, which 
he deemed himself bound to extol. 

“ Venerable host ! ” cried Fabio, “ do not waste 
your eloquence to no purpose; we are not English- 
men, and we prefer young women to old can- 
vases. Better send us your wine list by that 
handsome brunette with the velvety eyes whom 
I just now perceived on the stairway.” 

Finding that his guests did not belong to the 
mystifiable class of Philistines and bourgeois , the 
palforio ceased to vaunt his gallery in order to 
glorify his cellar. To begin with, he had all the 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


M3 


best vintages: — Chateau Margaux, Grand-Lafitte 
which had been twice to the Indies, Sillery de 
Moët, Hochmeyer, Scarlet wine, Port and porter, 
ale and ginger beer, white and red Lachryma- 
Christi, Caprian and Falernian. 

“What! you have Falernian wine, animal ! — 
and put it at the end of your list! — and you 
dare to subject us to an unendurable œnological 
litany ! ” — cried Max, leaping at the inn-keeper’s 
throat with burlesque fury : — “ why, you have no 
sentiment of local color; — you are unworthy to 
live in this antique neighborhood. Is it even 
good, this Falernian wine of yours ? — was it put 
in amphorae under the Consul Plancus — consule 
Planco ? ” 

“ I know nothing about the Consul Plancus ; 

and my wine is not put up in amphorae ; but it is 

«■ 

good, and worth ten carlins a bottle,” answered 
the inn-keeper. 

Day had faded away, and the night came, — a 
serene, transparent night, clearer, assuredly, than 
full midday in London ; the earth had tints of 
azure, and the sky silvery reflections of incon- 
ceivable sweetness ; the air was so still that the 
flames of the candles on the table did not even 
oscillate. 

A young boy, playing a flute, approached the 


144 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


table; and, standing there, with his eyes fixed 
upon the three guests, performed upon his sweet 
and melodious instrument, one of those popular 
airs in a minor key which have a penetrating 
charm. 

Perhaps that lad was a direct descendent of 
the flute-player who marched before Duilius. 

“ Our repast is assuming quite an antique as- 
pect: we only need some Gaditanian dancing 
women, and ivy-garlands,” exclaimed Max, as he 
helped himself to a great bumper of Falernian 
wine. 

“ I feel myself in the humor for making Latin 
quotations like a feuilleton in the Debats ; — 
stanzas of odes come back to my memory,” added 
Max. 

“ Keep them to yourself!” cried Fabio and Octa- 
vian, justly alarmed: — “ Nothing is so indigesti- 
ble as Latin at dinner!” 

Among young men with cigars in their mouths 
and elbows on the table, who find themselves con- 
templating a certain number of empty flagons, — 
especially when the wine has been capitally good, 
— conversation never fails to turn upon women. 
Each explained his own system; whereof the 
following is a fair summary : — 

Fabio cared only for youth and beauty: vo- 


ARRIA MARCELLA . 


145 


luptuous and positive, he found no pleasure in 
illusions, and had no preferences in love. A peas- 
ant girl would have pleased his fancy as well as 
a princess, provided she were beautiful; — the 
body, rather than its apparel, attracted him ; he 
laughed much at certain of his friends who w T ere 
enamored of so many yards of lace and silk ; and 
he declared it were more rational to fall in love 
with the stock of a fashionable marchand des 
nouveautés. These opinions, which were rational 
enough in the main, and which he made no at- 
tempt to conceal, caused him to pass for an 
eccentric. 

Max, less of an artist than Fabio, cared only 
for difficult undertakings, complicated intrigues : 
he sought resistances to vanquish, virtues to se- 
duce, and played at love, as at a game of chess, 
with long-premeditated moves, reserved ambus- 
cades, and stratagems worthy of Polybius. In a 
drawing-room he would always choose the woman 
who seemed least in sympathy with him, for the 
object of attack; — to make her pass by skillful 
transition from aversion to love, afforded him de- 
licious pleasure; — to impose himself upon char- 
acters which strove to repel him, and master wills 
that rebelled against his influence, seemed to him 
the sweetest of all triumphs. Like those hunters 


146 


ARRIA MARCELLA . 


who through rain, sunshine or snow, — through 
fields and woods, and over plains, pursue with ex- 
cessive fatigue and unconquerable ardor, some mis- 
erable quarry which in three cases out of four they 
would not deign to eat, — so Max, having once 
captured his prey, troubled himself no further 
about it, and at once started off on another chase. 

As for Octavian, he confessed that reality itself 
had little charm for him, — not because he in- 
dulged in student-dreams, all moulded of lilies 
and roses like one of Demoustier’s madrigals, but 
because there were too many prosaic and repul- 
sive details surrounding all beauty; too many 
doting and decorated fathers ; coquettish mothers 
who wore natural flowers in false hair; ruddy- 
faced cousins, meditating proposals; ridiculous 
aunts in love with little dogs. An aquatinta en- 
graving after Horace Vernet or Delaroche, hung 
up in a woman’s room, would have been sufficient 
to check a growing passion within him. More 
poetical even than amorous, he wanted a terrace 
on Isola-Bella, in Lake Maggiore, under the light 
of a full moon, to frame a rendezvous. He would 
have wished to elevate his love above the midst of 
common life, and transport its scenes to the stars. 
Thus he had by turns fallen fruitlessly and madly 
in love with all the grand feminine types preserved 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


14 7 


by history or art. Like Faust, he had loved 
Helen, and would have wished that the undula- 
tions of the ages might bear to him one of those 
sublime personifications of human desires and 
dreams, whose forms, to mortal eyes invisible, live 
immortally beyond Space and Time. He had 
created for himself an ideal seraglio, with Semira- 
mis, Aspasia, Cleopatra, Diana of Poitiers, Jane 
of Arragon. At times also he had fallen in love 
with statues ; and one day, passing before the 
Venus of Milo in the Museum, he cried out pas- 
sionately : “ Oh who will restore thy arms that 
thou may’st crush me upon thy marble bosom ! ” 
At Rome, the sight of a matted mass of long 
thick human hair, exhumed from an antique tomb, 
had thrown him into a fantastic delirium : he had 
attempted, through the medium of a few of those 
hairs, obtained by a golden bribe from the cus- 
todian, and placed in the hands of a clairvoyant 
of great power, to evoke the shade and form of 
the dead; but the conducting fluid — the subtle 
odyle — had evaporated during the lapse of so 
many years, and the apparition could no more 
come forth out of the eternal night. 

As Fabio had divined before the glass cabinet 
in the Studii Museum, the imprint discovered in 
the cellar at the villa of Arrius Diomedes had 


148 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


excited in Octavian wild impulses toward a retro- 
spective ideal : he longed to soar beyond Life and 
Time and transport himself in spirit to the age 
of Titus. 

Max and Fabio retired to their room ; and be- 
ing somewhat heavy-headed from the classic fumes 
of the Falernian, were soon sound asleep. Octa- 
vian, — who had more than once suffered the full 
glass to remain before him untasted, not wishing 
to disturb by a grosser intoxication the poetic 
drunkenness which boiled in his brain, felt from 
the agitation of his nerves that sleep would not 
come to him, and left the hostelry on tiptoe that 
he might cool his brow and calm his thoughts in 
the night air. 

His feet bore him unawares to the entrance 
which leads into the dead city: he removed the 
wooden bar that closed it, and wandered into the 
ruins beyond. 

The moon illuminated the pale houses with her 
white, beams, dividing the streets into double-edged 
lines of silvery white and bluish shadow. This 
nocturnal day, with its subdued tints, disguised 
the degradation of the buildings. The mutilated 
columns, the facades streaked with fugitive liz- 
ards, the roofs crumbled in by the eruption, were 


ARRIA MARCELLA . 


149 


less noticeable than when beheld under the clear, 
raw light of the sun : — the lost parts were com- 
pleted by the half-tint of shadow ; and here and 
there one brusque beam of light, like a touch of 
sentiment in a picture-sketch, marked where a 
whole edifice had crumbled away. The silent 
Genii of the night seemed to have repaired the 
fossil city for some representation of fantastic 
life. 

At times Octavian fancied that he saw vague 
human forms in the shadow : but they vanished 
the moment they approached the edge of the 
lighted portion of the street. A low whispering, 
— an indefinite hum, — floated through the silence. 
Our promenader at first attributed them to a flut- 
tering in his eyes, to a buzzing in his ears: it 
might even, he thought, be merely an optical de- 
lusion, coupled with the sighing of the sea- 
breezes, or the flight of some snake or lizard 
through the nettles; — for in Nature all things 
live, — even Death ; all things make themselves 
heard, — even Silence. Nevertheless he felt a 
kind of involuntary terror, — a slight trembling, 
that might have been caused by the cold night- 
air, but which made his flesh creep. Could it be 
that his comrades, actuated by the same impulses 
as himself, were seeking him among the ruins ? 


50 


ARRIA MARCELLA . 


Those dimly-seen forms and those indistinct 
sounds of footsteps ! — might it not have been 
only Max and Fabio walking and chatting to- 
gether, who had just disappeared round the corner 
of a crossroad ? But Octavian felt to his dismay, 
that this very natural explanation could not be 
true; and the arguments which he made to him- 
self in favor of it were the reverse of convincing. 
The solitude and the shadow were peopled with 
invisible beings whom he was disturbing: he had 
fallen into the midst of a mystery, and it seemed 
that they were awaiting his departure in order to 
commence again. Such were the extravagant 
ideas that floated through his brain, and obtained 
no little verisimilitude from the hour, the place, 
and the thousand alarming details which those 
can well understand who have ever found them- 
selves alone by night in the midst of some vast 
ruin. 

Passing before a house which he had attentively 
observed during the day, and which the moon 
shone fully upon, he beheld in perfect integrity 
a certain portico whereof he had vainly attempted 
to restore the design in fancy: four Ionic col- 
umns, — fluted for half their height and their 
shafts purple-robed with minium tints, — sustained 
a cymatium adorned with polychromatic orna- 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


I5I 


merits that the artist seemed only to have com- 
pleted the day before. Upon one side-wall of the 
entrance a Laconian molossus, — painted in en- 
caustic, and accompanied by the warning inscrip- 
tion “ Cave canem ,” — barked at the moon and the 
visitor with pictured fury. On the mosaic thresh- 
old the word HAVE, in Oscan and Latin charac- 
ters, saluted the guest with its friendly syllables. 
The outer surfaces of the walls, tinted with ochre 
and rubric, were unmarred by a single crack. 
The house had grown a story higher; and the 
tiled roof, now surmounted by a bronze acrote- 
rium, projected an intact outline against the light 
blue of the sky, where a few stars were growing 
pale. 

This strange restoration effected between after- 
noon and evening by some unknown architect, 
greatly puzzled Octavian, who felt certain of hav- 
ing the same day seen that very house in a 
lamentable state of ruin. The mysterious recon- 
structor had labored with great dispatch ; for all 
the neighboring dwellings had the same fresh, 
new look ; all the pillars were coiffed with their 
capitals ; not a single stone, a brick, a pellicle of 
stucco or a scale of paint was wanting upon the 
shining surfaces of, the facades ; — and through 
the intervals of the peristyles surrounding the 


152 


A R RI A MARCELLA. 


marble basin of the cavædium one could catch 
glimpses of white laurels and bayroses, myrtles 
and pomegranates. Surely all the historians were 
mistaken; — the eruption had never taken place: 
or else the needle of Time had moved backward 
twenty secular hours upon the dial of Eternity ! 

In the climax of his astonishment, Octavian 
commenced to wonder whether he might not 
actually be sleeping upon his feet, and walking in 
a dream. He even seriously asked himself 
whether madness might not be parading its hallu- 
cinations before his eyes ; but he soon felt him- 
self compelled to admit that he was neither asleep 
nor mad. 

A singular change had taken place in the at- 
mosphere: vague rose-tints were blending through 
brightening shades of violet with the faintly azure 
tints of moonlight; the sky commenced to glow 
brightly along its borders ; daylight seemed about 
to dawn. Octavian took out his watch : it marked 
the hour of midnight. Fearing that it might 
have stopped, he pressed the spring of the repeat- 
ing mechanism : it struck twelve times. It was 
midnight beyond a doubt, and yet the brightness 
ever increased ; — the moon sank through the 
azure which became momentarily more and more 
luminous; — the sun rose! 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


153 


Then Octavian, to whom all ideas of time had 
become hopelessly confused, was able to convince 
himself that he was walking, not through a dead 
Pompeii, — the chill corpse of a city half-shrouded, 

— but through a living, youthful, intact Pompeii 
over which the torrents of burning mud from 
Vesuvius had never flowed. 

An inconceivable prodigy had transported him, 
a Frenchman of the Nineteenth Century, back to 
the age of Titus, not in spirit only, but in reality; 

— or else had called up before him from the 
depths of the Past a desolated city with its van- 
ished inhabitants, — for a man clothed in the an- 
tique fashion had just passed out of a neighbor- 
ing house. 

This man wore his hair short; and his face 
was closely shaven : he was dressed in a brown 
tunic and a grayish mantle, the ends of which 
were well tucked up so as not to impede his move- 
ments; — he walked at a rapid gait, bordering 
upon a run, and passed by Octavian without per- 
ceiving him. He carried on his arm a basket 
made of Spanish broom, and proceeded towards 
the Forum Nundinarium. He was evidently a 
slave, — some Davus, going to market beyond a 
doubt. 

The noise of wheels became audible ; and an 


154 


ARRIA MARCELLA . 


antique wagon, drawn by white oxen and loaded 
with vegetables, came along the street. Beside 
the team walked a peasant, — with legs bare and 
sunburnt, and feet sandal-shod, — who was clad in 
a sort of canvas -shirt puffed out about the waist: 
a conical straw hat hanging at his shoulders, and 
depending from his neck by the chin-band, left 
his face exposed to view — a type of face un- 
known in these days; — a forehead low and trav- 
ersed by salient, knotty lines ; hair black and 
curly ; eyes tranquil as those of his oxen ; and a 
neck like that of the rustic Hercules. As he 
gravely pricked his animals with the goad, his 
statuesque attitudes would have thrown Ingres 
into ecstacy. 

The peasant perceived Octavian, and appeared 
surprised ; but he proceeded on his way without 
being able, doubtless, to find any explanation for 
the appearance of this strange-looking personage ; 
and, in his rustic simplicity, willingly leaving the 
solution of the enigma to those wiser than himself. 

Campanian peasants also appeared on the 
scene, driving before them asses laden with skins 
of wine, and ringing their brazen bells: — their 
physiognomies differed from those of the modern 
peasants as a medallion differs from a sou. 

Gradually the city became peopled, — like one 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


155 


of those panoramic pictures at first desolate, but 
which by a sudden change of light, become ani- 
mated with personages previously invisible. 

Octavian’s feelings had undergone a change. 
Only a short time before, amid the deceitful 
shadows of the night, he had fallen a prey to 
that uneasiness from which the bravest are not 
exempt amid such disquieting and fantastic sur- 
roundings as reason can not explain. His vague 
terror had ultimately yielded to a profound stupe- 
faction : the distinctness of his perceptions for- 
bade him to doubt the testimony of his senses ; 
yet what he beheld seemed altogether contrary to 
reason. Feeling still but half convinced, he 
sought by the authentication of minor actual 
details to assure himself that he was not the vic- 
tim of hallucination. Those figures which passed 
before his eyes could not be phantoms ; — for the 
living sun shone upon them with unmistakable 
reality, and their shadows, elongated in the morn- 
ing light, fell upon the pavement and the walls. 

Without the faintest understanding of what 
had befallen him, Octavian, ravished with delight 
to find one of his most cherished dreams realized, 
no longer attempted to resist the fate of his ad- 
venture : he abandoned himself to the mystery of 
these marvels, without any further attempt to ex- 


156 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


plain them ; — he averred to himself that since he 
had been permitted, by virtue of some mysterious 
power, to live for a few hours in a vanished age, 
he would not waste time in efforts to solve an 
incomprehensible problem ; and he proceeded 
fearlessly, gazing to right and left upon this scene 
at once so old and yet so new to him. But to 
what epoch of Pompeiian life had he been trans- 
ported ? An ædile inscription engraved upon a 
wall showed him by the names of public person- 
ages there recorded, that it was about the com- 
mencement of the reign of Titus, or in the year 
79 of our own era. A sudden thought flashed 
across Octavian’s mind; — the woman whose mold 
he had seen in the museum at Naples must be 
living, inasmuch as the eruption of Vesuvius by 
which she had perished took place on the 24th of 
August in this very year : he might therefore dis- 
cover her, behold her, speak to her! ...... 

The mad longing which had seized him at the 
sight of that mass of cinders molded upon a 
divinely perfect form, was perhaps about to be 
fully satisfied ; for surely naught could be impos- 
sible to a love which had had the strength to 
make Time itself recoil, and the same hour to 
pass twice through the sand-glass of Eternity ! 

While Octavian was abandoning himself to 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


15 7 


these reflections, beautiful young girls were pass- 
ing by on their way to the fountains, all balanc- 
ing urns upon their heads with their white finger- 
tips ; and patricians clad in white togas bordered 
with purple bands, were proceeding toward the 
Forum, each followed by an escort of clients. 
The buyers commenced to throng about the 
booths, which were all designated by sculptured 
or pictured signs, and recalled by reason of their 
shape and small dimensions, the moresque booths 
of Algiers : — over most of them a glorious 
phallus of baked and painted clay, together with 
the inscription, Hie habitat Félicitas , testified to 
superstitious precautions against the evil eye. 
Octavian also noticed an amulet shop, whose 
shelves were stocked with horns, bifurcated 
branches of coral, and little figures of Priapus in 
gold, — like those worn in Naples even at this 
day as a safeguard against the jettatura ; — and 
he thought to himself that a superstition often 
outlives a religion. 

Following the sidewalk which borders each 
street in Pompeii (and deprives the English of all 
claim to this invention), Octavian suddenly found 
himself face to face with a beautiful young man 
of about his own age, clad in a saffron colored 


i 5 8 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


tunic, and a mantle of snowy linen as supple as 
cashmere. The sight of Octavian in his fright- 
ful modern hat, girthed about with a scanty 
black frock-coat ; his legs confined in pantaloons, 
and his feet cramped in well-polished boots, 
seemed to surprise the young Pompeiian in much 
the same way as one of us would feel astonished 
to meet on the Boulevard de Gand some Iowa 
Indian or native of Butocudo, bedecked with his 
feathers, necklace of bear’s-claws, or whimsical 
tattooing. Nevertheless, being a well-bred young 
man, he did not burst out laughing in Octavian’s 
face ; and pitying the poor barbarian who had 
lost his way, no doubt, in that Graeco-Roman city, 
he said to him in a soft, clear voice : — 

“ Advena , salve!” 

Nothing could be more natural than that an 
inhabitant of Pompeii, in the reign of the divine, 
most powerful, and most august Emperor Titus, 
should speak Latin ; — yet Octavian started at hear- 
ing this dead tongue in a living mouth. It was 
then, indeed, that he congratulated himself on 
having been proficient in his college studies, and 
taken the honors at the annual examinations. The 
Latin taught him by the University served him 
in good stead on that unique occasion ; and call- 
ing back to mind some souvenirs of his college 


ARRIA MARCELLA . 


159 


course, he returned the salutation of the Pom- 
peiian after the style of De Viris Illustribus and 
Selectœ E Profanis, in a tolerably intelligible 
manner, but with a Parisian accent which forced 
the young man to smile, despite himself. 

“ Perhaps it will be easier for you to converse 
in Greek,” said the Pompeiian : “ I am also ac- 
quainted with that language; for I studied at 
Athens.” 

“ I am even less familiar with Greek than with 
Latin,” replied Octavian ; “ I am from the land of 
Gaul, — from Paris, — from Lutetia.” 

“ I know that country. My grandfather served 
under the great Julius Cæsar in the Gallic wars. 
But what a strange dress you wear ! — the Gauls 
whom I saw at Rome were not thus attired.” 

Octavian attempted to explain to the young 
Pompeiian that twenty centuries had rolled by 
since the conquest of Gaul by Julius Cæsar, and 
that the fashions had changed : but he forgot his 
Latin ; and indeed, to tell the truth, he had but 
little to forget. 

“ My name is Rufus Holconius ; and my house 
is at your service,” said the young man, — “un- 
less, indeed, you prefer the freedom of the tav- 
ern : it is hard by the public-house of Albinus, 
near the gate of the suburb of Augustus Felix 


i6o 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


and the Inn of Sarinus, son of Publius, just at 
the second turn; — but if you wish, I will be your 
guide through this city, in which you do not seem 
to be acquainted. Young barbarian, I like you, 
— although you endeavored to impose upon my 
credulity by pretending that the Emperor Titus, 
who now reigns, died two thousand years ago, 
and that the Nazarean (whose infamous followers 
were plastered with pitch and burned to illumi- 
nate Nero’s gardens) rules sole master of the de- 
serted heavens whence the great gods have 
fallen ! .... By Pollux ! ” — he continued as his 
eyes fell upon a rubric inscription at a street-cor- 
ner,- “you have just come in good time; — the 
Casing of Plautus, which has quite recently been 
put upon the stage, will be played to-day : it is a 
curious and laughable comedy which will amuse 
you, even if you only comprehend the pantomime 
of it. Come with me ! — it is nearly time for the 
play already : I will find you a place in the seat 
set apart for guests and strangers.” And Rufus 
Holconius led the way toward the little comic 
theatre which the three friends had visited during 
the day. 

The Frenchman and the citizen of Pompeii 
proceeded along the Street of the Fountains of 
Abundance, and the Street of the Theatres, pass- 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


l6l 


in g by the College, the Temple of Isis and the 
Studio of the Sculptor; and entered the Odeon 
or Comic Theatre by a latéral vomitory. Through 
the recommendations of Holconius, Octavian ob- 
tained a seat near the proscenium in a part of the 
theatre corresponding to our private boxes which 
front upon the stage. All eyes were immediately 
turned upon him with good-natured curiosity; 
and a low whispering arose all through the 
amphitheatre. 

The play had not yet commenced; and Octa- 
vian profited by the interval to examine the build- 
ing. The semicircular seats, terminated at either 
end by a magnificent lion’s paw sculptured in Ve- 
suvian lava, receded, broadening as they rose, 
from an empty space corresponding to our par- 
terre, but much narrower and paved in mosaic 
with Greek marble: the rows of seats widened 
above one another in regular gradation according 
to distance; and four stairways, corresponding 
with the vomitories, and sloping from the base to 
the summit of the amphitheatre, divided it into 
five cunei or wedge-shaped compartments, with 
the broad end uppermost. The spectators, — all 
furnished with tickets consisting of little slips of 
ivory, upon which were indicated in numerical 
order the row, division and seat, together with 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


162 

the name of the play and its author, — took their 
places without confusion. The magistrates, no- 
bility, married men, young folks, and the soldiers 
— who attracted attention by the gleaming of 
their bronze helmets, — all occupied different 
rows of seats. 

It was an admirable spectacle: — those beauti- 
ful togas and great white mantles displayed in 
the first row of seats, contrasting with the vari- 
colored garments of the women seated in the cir- 
cle above, and the gray capes of the populace 
who were assigned to the upper benches near the 
columns which supported the roof, and between 
which were visible glimpses of a sky intensely 
blue as the azure back-ground of the Panathenæa. 

A fine spray aromatized with saffron, fell from 
the friezes above in. imperceptible mist, at once 
cooling and purifying the air. Octavian thought 
of the fetid emanations which vitiate the atmos- 
phere of our modern theatres, — theatres so un- 
comfortable that they may justly be considered 
places of torture rather than places of amuse- 
ment ; and he found that modern civilization had 
not, after all, made much progress. 

The curtain, sustained by a transverse beam, 
sank into the depths of the orchestra ; the musi- 
cians took their seats ; and the Prologue appeared 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


163 


in grotesque attire, his face concealed by a fright- 
ful mask which fitted the head like a helmet. 

Having saluted the audience and demanded 
applause, the Prologue commenced a merry argu- 
mentation. Old plays, he said, were like old wine 
which improves with age ; and Casina, so dear to 
the old, should not be less so to the young : all 
could take pleasure in it, — some because they 
were familiar with it ; others, because they were 
not. Moreover the play had been carefully re- 
mounted, and should be heard with a cheerful 
mind, — without thinking about one’s debts or 
one’s creditors ; for people were not liable to be 
arrested at the theatre : — it was a happy day ; 
the weather was fair ; and the halcyons hovered 
over the forum. 

Then he gave an analysis of the comedy about 
to be performed by the actors, with that minute- 
ness of detail which shows how little the element 
of surprise entered into the theatrical pleasures 
of the ancients: — he told how the aged Stalino, 
being enamored of his beautiful slave Casina, 
desired to marry her to his farmer Olympio — a 
complaisant spouse whose place he himself would 
fill on the nuptial night; — and how Lycostrata, 
wife of Stalino, in order to thwart the luxury of 
her vicious husband, sought to unite Casina in 


6 4 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


marriage to the groom Chalinus with the further 
idea of favoring the amours of her son; — in fine, 
how the deceived Stalino mistook a young slave 
in disguise for Casina, who, being discovered to be 
free, and of free birth, espouses the young mas- 
ter whom she loves and by whom she is beloved. 

As in a reverie, the young Frenchman watched 
the actors with their bronze-mouthed masks, exert- 
ing themselves upon the stage; the slaves ran 
hither and thither, feigning great haste ; the old 
man wagged his head and extended his trembling 
hands ; the matron with high words and scornful 
mien strutted in her importance and quarreled 
with her husband, to the great delight of the 
audience. All these personages made their en- 
trances and exits through three doors contrived 
in the foundation-wall and communicating with 
the green-room of the actors. The house of Sta- 
lino occupied one corner of the stage ; and tha*- 
of his old friend Alcesimus faced it on the oppo- 
site side. These decorations, although very well 
painted, represented the idea of a place rather 
than the place itself, — like most of the vague 
scenery of the classic theatres. 

When the nuptial procession, pompously escort- 
ing the false Casina, entered upon the stage, a 
mighty burst of laughter, such as Homer attrib- 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


165 

utes to the gods, rang through all the amphithea- 
tre; and thunders of applause evoked the vibrat- 
ing echoes of the enclosure ; — but Octavian 
heard no more and saw no more of the play. 

In the circle of seats occupied by the women, 
he had just beheld a creature of marvelous 
beauty. From that moment all the other charm- 
ing faces which had attracted his attention became 
eclipsed as the stars before the face of Phoebus : 
all vanished, all disappeared as in a dream; a 
mist clouded the circles of seats with their swarm- 
ing multitudes ; and the high-pitched voices of 
the actors seemed lost in infinite distance. 

His heart received a sudden shock as of elec- 
tricity; and it seemed to him that sparks flew 
from his breast, when the eyes of that woman 
turned upon him. 

She was dark and pale ; her locks, crisp-flowing 
and black as the tresses of Night, streamed back- 
ward over her temples after the fashion of the 
Greeks ; and in her pallid face beamed soft, mel- 
ancholy eyes, heavy with an indefinable expression 
of voluptuous sadness and passionate ennui : her 
mouth, with its disdainful curves, protested by 
the living warmth of its burning crimson against 
the tranquil pallor of her cheeks ; and the curves 
of her neck presented those pure and beautiful 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


1 66 

outlines now to be found only in statues. Her 
arms were naked to the shoulder; and from the 
peaks of her splendid bosom, which betrayed its 
superb curves beneath a mauve-rose tunic, fell two 
graceful folds of drapery that seemed to have been 
sculptured in marble by Phidias or Cleomenes. 

The sight of that bosom, so faultless in con- 
tour, so pure in its outlines, magnetically affected 
Octavian: it seemed to him that those rich curves 
corresponded perfectly to that hollow mould in 
the museum at Naples which had thrown him 
into so ardent a reverie ; and from the depths of 
his heart a voice cried out to him that this woman 
was indeed the same who had been suffocated in the 
villa of Arrius Diomedes by the cinders of Vesu- 
vius. What prodigy, then, enabled him to behold 
her living, and witnessing the performance of the 
Casina of Plautus ? But he forbore to seek an 
explanation of the problem: — for that matter, 
how did he himself happen to be there ? He ac- 
cepted the fact of his presence as in dreams we 
never question the intervention of persons ac- 
tually long dead, but who seem to act neverthe- 
less like living people : besides, his emotion for- 
bade him to reason. For him the Wheel of Time 
had left its track ; and his all-conquering love had 
chosen its place among the ages passed away. He 


ARRIA MARCELLA . 


167 


found himself face to face with his chimera, one 
of the most unattainable of all, — a retrospective 
chimera. The cup of his whole life had in a sin- 
gle instant been filled to overflowing. 

While gazing upon that face, at once so calm 
and passionate, — so cold and yet so replete with 
warmth, — so dead, yet so radiant with life, — he 
felt that he beheld before him his first and last 
love, — his cup of supreme intoxication: he felt 
all the memories of all the women whom he ever 
believed that he had loved, vanish like impalpa- 
ble shadows ; and his heart became once more 
virginally pure of all anterior passion. The past 
was dead within him. 

Meanwhile the fair Pompeiian, resting her chin 
upon the palm of her hand, turned upon Octa- 
vian, — though feigning the w r hile to be absorbed 
in the performance, — the velvet gaze of her noc- 
turnal eyes; and that look fell upon him heavy 
and burning as a jet of molten lead. Then she 
turned to whisper some words in the ear of a 
maid seated at her side. 

The performance closed; the crowd poured 
out of the theatre through the vomitories ; and 
Octavian, disdaining the kindly offices of his friend 
Holconius, rushed to the nearest doorway. He 
had scarcely reached the entrance when a hand 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


1 68 


was lightly laid upon his arm ; and a feminine 
voice exclaimed in tones at once low yet so dis- 
tinct that not a syllable escaped him : — 

“ I am Tyche Novaleia, entrusted with the 
pleasures of Arria Marcella, daughter of Arrius 
Diomedes : My mistress loves you: follow me.” 

Arria Marcella had just entered her litter — 
borne by four strong Syrian slaves, naked to the 
waist, whose bronze torsos shone under the sun- 
light. The curtain of the litter was drawn aside ; 
and a pale hand, starred with brilliant rings, waved 
a friendly signal to Octavian, as though in con- 
firmation of the attendant’s words. Then the 
purple folds of the curtain fell again ; and the 
litter was borne away to the rhythmical sound of 
the footsteps of the slaves. 

Tyche conducted Octavian along winding by- 
ways, tripping lightly across the streets over the 
stepping-stones which connected the foot-paths, 
and between which the wheels of the chariots 
rolled; — wending her way through the labyrinth 
with that certainty which bears witness to thor- 
ough familiarity with a city. Octavian noticed 
that he was traversing portions of Pompeii which 
had never been excavated, and which were in con- 
sequence totally unknown to him. Among so 
many other equally strange circumstances, this 


ARRIA MARCELLA . 


169 


caused him no astonishment. He had made up 
his mind to be astonished at nothing. Amid all 
this archaic phantasmagory, which would have 
driven an antiquarian mad with joy, he no longer 
saw anything save the dark, deep eyes of Arria 
Marcella, and that superb bosom which had van- 
quished even Time, and which Destruction itself 
had sought to preserve. 

They arrived at last before a private gate which 
opened to admit them, and closed again as soon 
as they had entered ; and Octavian found himself 
in a court surrounded by Ionic columns of Greek 
marble, painted bright yellow for half their height, 
and crowned with capitals relieved with blue and 
red ornaments. A wreath of aristolochia sus- 
pended its great green heart-shaped leaves from 
the projections of the architecture like a natural 
arabesque; and near a marble basin framed in 
plants, one flaming rose towered on a single stalk, 
— a plume-flower in the midst of natural flowers. 
The walls were adorned with paneled fresco- 
work, representing fanciful architecture, or imag- 
inary landscape views. 

Octavian obtained only a hurried glance at all 
these details ; for Tyche immediately placed him 
in the hands of the slaves who had charge of the 
bath, and who subjected him, notwithstanding his 


ARRIA MARCELLA . 


170 


impatience, to all the refinements of the antique 
thermce . After having submitted to the several 
necessary degrees of vapor-heat, endured the 
scraper of the strigillarius , and felt cosmetics 
and perfumed oils poured over him in streams, 
he was reclothed with a white tunic, and again 
met Tyche at the opposite door, who took him by 
the hand, and conducted him into another apart- 
ment, gorgeously decorated. 

Upon the ceiling were painted, — -with a purity 
of design, brilliancy of color, and freedom of 
touch which bespoke the hand of a great master 
rather than of the mere ordinary decorator, — 
Mars, Venus, and Love: a frieze composed of 
deer, hares, and birds, disporting themselves amid 
rich foliage, ran around the apartment above a 
wainscoting of cipollino marble ; the mosaic pave- 
ment, — a marvelous work from the hand, per- 
haps, of Sosimus of Pergamos, — represented 
banquet-scenes in relief, with a perfection of art 
which deluded the eye. 

At the further end of the hall, upon a biclinium, 
or double couch, reclined Arria Marcella in an at- 
titude which recalled the reclining woman of 
Phidias, upon the pediment of the Parthenon: 
her pearl-embroidered shoes lay at the foot of the 
couch; and her beautiful bare foot, purer and 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


171 


whiter than marble, extended from beneath the 
light covering of byssus which had been thrown 
over her. 

Two earrings, fashioned in the form of balance- 
scales, and bearing pearls in either scale, trembled 
in the light against her pale cheeks : a necklace 
of golden balls, with pear-shaped pendants at- 
tached, hung down upon her bosom, which the 
negligent folds of a straw-colored peplum, with a 
Greek border in black lines, had left half uncov- 
ered ; a gold-and-black fillet passed and glit- 
tered here and there through her ebon tresses, — 
for she had changed her dress upon returning 
from the theatre; — and around her arm, like the 
asp about the arm of Cleopatra, a golden serpent 
with jeweled eyes entwined itself in many folds, 
and sought to bite its own tail. 

Close by the double couch had been placed a 
little table, supported upon griffins’ paws, inlaid 
with mother-of-pearl, and freighted with different 
viands served upon dishes of silver and gold, or 
of earthenware, enameled with costly paintings. 
A Phasian bird, cooked in its plumage, was visi- 
ble ; and also various fruits which are seldom 
seen together in any one season. 

Everything seemed to indicate that a guest was 
expected; the floor had been strewn with fresh 


172 


ARRIA MARCELLA . 


flowers ; and the amphcræ of wine were plunged 
into urns filled with snow. 

Arria Marcella made a sign to Octavian to lie 
down upon the biclinium beside her and share 
her repast. Half-maddened with astonishment 
and love, the young man took at random a few 
mouthfuls from the plates extended to him by lit- 
tle curly-haired Asiatic slaves, who wore short 
tunics. Arria did not eat ; but she frequently 
raised to her lips an opal-tinted myrrhine vase 
filled with a wine darkly purple like thickened 
blood; — as she drank, an imperceptible rosy vapor 
mounted to her cheeks from her heart, — the 
heart that had never throbbed for so many cen- 
turies : nevertheless, her bare arm, which Octa- 
vian lightly touched in the act of raising his cup, 
was cold as the skin of a serpent or the marble 
of a tomb. 

“Ah ! when you paused in the Studii Museum, 
to contemplate the mass of hardened clay which 
still preserves my form,” — exclaimed Arria Mar- 
cella, turning her long, liquid eyes upon Octavian, 
— “and your thoughts were ardently directed to 
me, my spirit felt it in that world where I float, 
invisible to vulgar eyes: faith makes God; and 
love makes woman. One is truly dead only when 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


173 


one is no longer loved ; your desire has restored 
life to me ; — the mighty invocation of your heart 
overcame the dim distances that separated us.” 

The idea of amorous invocation which the 
young woman spoke of, entered into the philo- 
sophic beliefs of Octavian, beliefs which we our- 
selves are not far from sharing. 

In effect, nothing dies ; all things are eternal : 
no power can annihilate that which once had be- 
ing. Every action, every word, every thought 
which has fallen into the universal Ocean of be- 
ing, therein creates circles which travel, and in- 
crease in traveling, even to the confines of Eter- 
nity. To vulgar eyes only do natural forms dis- 
appear ; and the spectres which have thence 
detached themselves people Infinity: — Paris, in 
some unknown region of Space, continues to 
carry off Helen; — the galley of Cleopatra still 
floats down with swelling sails of silk upon the 
azure current of an ideal Cydnus; — a few pas- 
sionate and powerful minds have been able to re- 
call before them ages apparently long passed 
away, and to restore to life personages dead to all 
the world beside. Faust has had for his mistress 
the daughter of Tyndarus, and conducted her to 
his gothic castle in the depths of the mysterious 
abysses of Hades. Octavian had been able to 


174 


ARRIA MARCELLA . 


live a day under the reign of Titus, and to make 
himself beloved of Arria Marcella, daughter of 
Arrius Diomedes, — she who was at that moment 
lying upon an antique couch beside him in a city 
destroyed for all the rest of the world. 

“ From my disgust with other women,” replied 
Octavian, — “from the unconquerable reverie 
which attracted me toward its radiant shapes as 
to stars that lure on, I knew that I could never 
love save beyond the confines of Time and Space. 
It was you that I awaited ; and that frail vestige 
of your being, preserved by the curiosity of men, 
has by its secret magnetism placed me in com- 
munication with your spirit. I know not if you 
be a dream or a reality, a phantom or a woman ; 
— if, like Ixion, I press but a cloud to my cheated 
breast; — if I am only the victim of some vile 
spell of sorcery : but what I do truly know is that 
you will be my first and my last love.” 

“ May Eros, son of Aphrodite, hear your prom- 
ise,” returned Arria Marcella, dropping her head 
upon the shoulder of her lover, who lifted her in 
a passionate embrace: — “Oh, press me to your 
young breast! — envelop me with your warm 
breath : I am cold through having remained so 
long without love.” And against his heart Octa- 
vian felt that beautiful bosom rise and fall, whose 


ARRIA MARCELLA . 


175 


mould he had that very morning admired through 
the glass of a cabinet in the museum: — the cool- 
ness of that beautiful flesh penetrated him through 
his tunic and made him burn. The gold-and-black 
fillet had become detached from Arria’s head, 
passionately thrown back ; and her hair streamed 
like a black river over the purple pillow. 

The slaves had removed the table. A con- 
fused sound of sighs and kisses was alone audi- 
ble. The pet quails, indifferent to this amorous 
scene, plundered the crumbs of the banquet upon 
the mosaic pavement ; uttering sharp little cries. 

Suddenly the brazen rings of the curtain which 
closed the entrance to the apartment slided back 
upon the curtain-rod ; and an aged man of stern 
demeanor, and wrapped in a great brown mantle, 
appeared upon the threshold. His grey beard 
was divided into two points after the manner of 
the Nazareans: his face seemed furrowed by the 
suffering of ascetic mortifications ; and a little 
cross of black wood was suspended from his neck, 
leaving no doubt as to his faith : — he belonged 
to the sect, then new, of the Disciples of Christ. 

On perceiving him, Arria Marcella, over- 
whelmed with confusion, hid her face in the folds 
of her mantle, like a bird which puts its head 
under its wing at the approach of an enemy from 


176 


ARRIA MARCELLA . 


whom it cannot escape, to save itself at least from 
the horror of seeing him; — while Octavian, ris- 
ing on his elbow, stared fixedly at the provoking 
being who had thus abruptly interrupted his 
happiness. 

“ Arria, Arria!” exclaimed the austere person- 
age in a voice of reproach, — “did not your life- 
time suffice for your misconduct ; and must your 
infamous amours encroach upon centuries to 
which they do not belong? Can you not leave 
the living in their sphere ? Have not your ashes 
cooled since the day when you perished unrepent- 
ant beneath the rain of volcanic fire ? So, then, 
even two thousand years have not sufficed to calm 
your passion ; and your voracious arms still draw 
to your heartless breast of marble the poor mad- 
men whom your philters have intoxicated ! ” 

“Arrius, father ! mercy! — do not crush me, in 
the name of that morose religion which was never 
mine ! — I believed in our ancient gods, who loved 
life and youth and beauty and pleasure : — do not 
hurl me back into pale nothingness! — let me 
enjoy this life that love has given back to me ! ” 

“ Silence ! impious woman ! — speak not to me 
of your gods, which are demons. Let this man, 
whom you have fettered with your impure seduc- 
tions, depart hence : draw him no more beyond 


A R RI A MARCELLA. 


1 77 


the circle of that life which God measured out for 
him ; — return to the Limbo of Paganism with 
your Asiatic, Roman, or Greek lovers. Young 
Christian, forsake that Larva, who would seem 
to you more hideous than Empousa or Phorkyas, 
could you but see her as she is ! ” 

Pale and frozen with horror, Octavian tried to 
speak ; but his voice clung to his throat, accord- 
ing to the expression of Virgil. 

“ Will you obey me, Arria? ” imperiously cried 
the tall old man. 

“ No ! never ! ” responded Arria, with flashing 
eyes, dilated nostrils, and passion-trembling lips, 
— as she suddenly encircled the body of Octavian 
with her beautiful statuesque arms, cold, hard, 
and rigid as marble. Her furious beauty, enhan- 
ced by the struggle, shone forth at that supreme 
moment, with supernatural brightness, as though 
to leave its imperishable souvenir with her young 
lover. 

“ Then, unhappy woman,” exclaimed the old 
man, “ i must needs employ extreme measures, 
and render your nothingness palpable and visible 
to this fascinated child.” And in a voice of com- 
mand, he pronounced a formula of exorcism that 
banished from Arria’s cheeks the purple tints 
with which the black wine from the myrrhine vase 
had suffused them. 


173 


A R RT A MARCELLA. 


At the same moment, the distant bell of one of 
those hamlets which border the sea-coast, or lie 
hidden in the mountain hollows, rang out the first 
peal of the Angelus. 

A sob of agony burst from the broken heart of 
the young woman at that sound. Octavian felt 
her encircling arms untwine ; the draperies which 
covered her sank fold on fold, as though the con- 
tours which sustained them had suddenly given 
way; and the wretched night-walker beheld on 
the banquet-couch beside him only a handful of 
cinders mingled with a few fragments of calcined 
bones, among which gold bracelets and jewelry 
glittered, — together with such other shapeless 
remains as were found in excavating the villa of 
Arrius Diomedes. 

He uttered one fearful cry, and became in- 
sensible. 

The old man had disappeared; the sun rose; 
and the hall, so brilliantly decorated but a short 
time before, became only a dismantled ruin. 


After a heavy slumber, inspired by the libations 
of the previous evening, Max and Fabio started 
from their sleep, and at once called their com- 
rade, — whose room adjoined their own, — with 
one of those burlesque rallying cries which are 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


i/9 


so commonly made use of by travelers: — Octa- 
vian, for the best of reasons, returned no answer. 
Fabio and Max, hearing no response, entered 
their friend’s chamber and perceived that the bed 
had not been disturbed. 

“He must have fallen asleep in some chair,” 
said Fabio, “without being able to get to bed; for 
our good Octavian can not bear much liquor : and 
most likely he is taking an early walk to dissipate 
the fumes of the wine in the fresh morning air.” 

“ But he did not drink much,” returned Max, 
in a thoughtful manner. “All this seems very 
strange to me : let us go and find him ! ” 

Accompanied by the cicerone, the two friends 
searched all the streets, squares, crossroads, and 
alleys of Pompeii, — entering every curious build- 
ing where they thought Octavian might be occu- 
pied in copying a painting or taking down an in- 
scription, and finally discovered him lying insen- 
sible upon the disjointed mosaic pavement of a 
small ruined chamber. They had much difficulty 
in restoring him to consciousness ; and, on reviv- 
ing, his only explanation of the circumstance was 
that he had taken a fancy to see Pompeii by 
moonlight, and had been seized with a sudden 
fafntness, which would doubtless result in nothing 


serious. 


i8o 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


The little party returned by rail to Naples, as 
they had come; and the same evening, from their 
private box at the San Carlo, Max and Fabio 
watched through their opera glasses a troupe of 
nymphs dancing in a ballet, under the leadership 
of Amalia Ferraris, the danseuse then in vogue, 
— all wearing under their gauzy skirts frightful 
green drawers, which made them look like so 
many frogs stung by a tarantula. Pale, with 
woful eyes, and the general air of one crushed 
by suffering, Octavian seemed to doubt the real- 
ity of what transpired upon the stage, — so diffi- 
cult did he find it to resume the sentiments of 
real life after the marvelous adventures of the 
night. 

From the time of that visit to Pompeii, Octa- 
vian fell into a dismal melancholy, which the good- 
humored pleasantry of his companions rather 
aggravated than soothed: — the image of Arria 
Marcella haunted him incessantly; and the sad 
termination of his fantastic good-fortune had 
never destroyed its charm. 

Unable to contain his misery, he returned 
secretly to Pompeii, and once again wandered 
among the ruins by moonlight as before, — his 
heart palpitating with maddening hope ; but the 
hallucination never returned: — he saw only the 


ARRIA MARCELLA. 


1 8 1 


lizards fleeing over the stones; he heard only the 
screams of the startled night-birds: he met his 
friend Rufus Holconius no more ; — Tyche came 
not to lay her supple hand upon his arm; — Ar- 
ria Marcella obstinately slumbered in her dust. 

Abandoning all hope, Octavian finally married 
a charming young English girl, who is madly in 
love with him. He is perfectly well behaved to 
his wife ; yet Ellen, with that subtle instinct of 
the heart which nothing can deceive, feels that 
her husband is enamored of another; but of 
whom ? That is a mystery which the most un- 
flagging watchfulness can not enable her to 
unravel. Octavian never entertains actresses ; — in 
society he addresses to women only the most com- 
mon place gallantries : he even returned with the 
greatest coldness, the marked advances of a cer- 
tain Russian princess, celebrated for her beauty 
and her coquetry. A secret drawer, opened dur- 
ing her husband’s absence, afforded no confirma- 
tion of infidelity to Ellen’s suspicions. But how 
could she permit herself to be jealous of Arria 
Marcella, daughter of Arrius Diomedes, the freed- 
man of Tiberius? 


THE MUMMY’S FOOT. 


I had entered, in an idle mood, the shop of one 
of those curiosity-venders, who are called mar- 
chands de bric-a-brac in that Parisian argot which 
is so perfectly unintelligible elsewhere in France. 

You have doubtless glanced occasionally 
through the windows of some of these shops, 
which have become so numerous now that it is 
fashionable to buy antiquated furniture, and that 
every petty stockbroker thinks he must have his 
chambre au moyen âge . 

There is one thing there which clings alike to 
the shop of the dealer in old iron, the wareroom 
of the tapestry maker, the laboratory of the 
chemist, and the studio of the painter: — in all 
those gloomy dens where a furtive daylight fil- 
ters in through the window-shutters the most 
manifestly ancient thing is dust; — the cobwebs 
are more authentic than the guimp laces; and 
the old pear-tree furniture on exhibition is act- 
ually younger than the mahogany which arrived 
but yesterday from America. 

The warehouse of my bric-a-brac dealer was 

(182) 


THE MUMMY'S FOOT. 


183 


a veritable Capharnaum ; all ages and all nations 
seemed to have made their rendezvous there ; an 
Etruscan lamp of red clay stood upon a Boule 
cabinet, with ebony panels, brightly striped by 
lines of inlaid brass ; a duchess of the court of 
Louis XV nonchalantly extended her fawn-like 
feet under a massive table of the time of Louis 
XIII, with heavy spiral supports of oak, and 
carven designs of chimeras and foliage intermin- 
gled. 

Upon the denticulated shelves of several side- 
boards glittered immense Japanese dishes with 
red and blue designs relieved by gilded hatching ; 
side by side with enameled works by Bernard 
Palissy, representing serpents, frogs, and lizards 
in relief. 

From disemboweled cabinets escaped cascades 
of silver-lustrous Chinese silks and waves of tin- 
sel, which an oblique sunbeam shot through with 
luminous beads ; while portraits of every era, in 
frames more or less tarnished, smiled through 
their yellow varnish. 

The striped breastplate of a damascened suit 
of Milanese armor glittered in one corner; Loves 
and Nymphs of porcelain; Chinese Grotesques, 
vases of céladon and crackle-ware; Saxon and old 
Sevres cups, encumbered the shelves and nooks 
of the apartment. 


184 


THE MUMMY'S FOOT. 


The dealer followed me closely through the 
tortuous way contrived between the piles of fur- 
niture; warding off with his hand the hazard- 
ous sweep of my coat-skirts ; watching my elbows 
with the uneasy attention of an antiquarian and 
a usurer. 

It was a singular face, that of the merchant : — 
an immense skull, polished like a knee, and sur- 
rounded by a thin aureole of white hair, which 
brought out the clear salmon tint of his complex- 
ion all the more strikingly, lent him a false aspect 
of patriarchal bonhomie , counteracted, however, 
by the scintillation of two little yellow eyes which 
trembled in their orbits like two louis-d’or upon 
quicksilver. The curve of his nose presented an 
aquiline silhouette, which suggested the Oriental 
or Jewish type. His hands, — thin, slender, full 
of nerves which projected like strings upon the 
finger-board of a violin, and armed with claws 
like those on the terminations of bats’ wings, — 
shook with senile trembling; but those convul- 
sively agitated hands became firmer than steel 
pincers or lobsters’ claws when they lifted any 
precious article, — an onyx cup, a Venetian glass, 
or a dish of Bohemian crystal. This strange old 
man had an aspect so thoroughly rabbinical and 
cabalistic that he would have been burnt on the 
mere testimony of his face three centuries ago. 


THE MUMMY’S FOOT. 


85 


“ Will you not buy something from me to-day, 
sir ? Here is a Malay kreese with a blade undu- 
lating like flame : look at those grooves contrived 
for the blood to run along, those teeth set back- 
ward so as to tear out the entrails in withdrawing 
the weapon, — it is a fine character of ferocious 
arm, and will look well in your collection : this 
two-handed sword is very beautiful, — it is the 
work of Josepe de la Hera; and this colicke- 
marde , with its fenestrated guard, — what a superb 
specimen of handicraft!” 

“No ; I have quite enough weapons and instru- 
ments of carnage ; — I want a small figure, some- 
thing which will suit me as a paper-weight ; for 
I cannot endure those trumpery bronzes which 
the stationers sell, and which may be found on 
everybody’s desk.” 

The old gnome foraged among his ancient 
wares, and finally arranged before me some an- 
tique bronzes, — so-called, at least; fragments of 
malachite; little Hindoo or Chinese idols, — a kind 
of poussah-toys in jade-stone, representing the 
incarnations of Brahma or Vishnoo, and wonder- 
fully appropriate to the very undivine office of 
holding papers and letters in place. 

I was hesitating between a porcelain dragon, all 
constellated with warts, — its mouth formidable 
with bristling tusks and ranges of teeth, — and 


THE MUMMY'S FOOT. 


1 86 

an abominable little Mexican fetish, representing 
the god Vitziliputzili au naturel; when I caught 
sight of a charming foot, which I at first took for 
a fragment of some antique Venus. 

It had those beautiful ruddy and tawny tints 
that lend to Florentine bronze that warm living 
look so much preferable to the gray-green aspect 
of common bronzes, which might easily be mis- 
taken for statues in a state of putrefaction : sat- 
iny gleams played over its rounded forms, doubt- 
less polished by the amorous kisses of twenty 
centuries ; for it seemed a Corinthian bronze, a 
work of the best era of art, — perhaps moulded 
by Lysippus himself. 

“ That foot will be my choice,” I said to the mer- 
chant, who regarded me with an ironical and 
saturnine air, and held out the object desired that 
I might examine it more fully. 

I was surprised at its lightness ; it was not a 
foot of metal, but in sooth a foot of flesh, 
— an embalmed foot, — a mummy’s foot: on ex- 
amining it still more closely the very grain of the 
skin, and the almost imperceptible lines im- 
pressed upon it by the texture of the bandages, 
became perceptible. The toes were slender and 
delicate, and terminated by perfectly formed nails, 
pure and transparent as agates ; the great toe, 
slightly separated from the rest, afforded a happy 


THE MUMMY'S FOOT. 


187 


contrast, in the antique style, to the position of 
the other toes, and lent it an aeriel lightness, — the 
grace of a bird’s foot; — the sole, scarcely streaked 
by a few almost imperceptible cross lines, afforded 
evidence that it had never touched the bare 
ground, and had only come in contact with the 
finest matting of Nile rushes, and the softest 
carpets of panther skin. 

“ Ha, ha! — you want the foot of the Princess 
Hermonthis,” — exclaimed the merchant, with a 
strange giggle, fixing his owlish eyes upon me — 
“ ha, ha, ha ! — for a paper-weight ! — an original 
idea! — artistic idea! Old Pharaoh would cer- 
tainly have been surprised had some one told him 
that the foot of his adored daughter would be 
used for a paper-weight after he had had a moun- 
tain of granite hollowed out as a receptacle for 
the triple coffin, painted and gilded, — covered with 
hieroglyphics and beautiful paintings of the Judg- 
ment of Souls,” — continued the queer little mer- 
chant, half audibly, as though talking to himself ! 

“ How much will you charge me for this 
mummy fragment ? ” 

“Ah, the highest price I can get; for it is a 
superb piece : if I had the match of it you could 
not have it for less than five hundred francs ; — 
the daughter of a Pharaoh! nothing is more 


rare. 


1 88 


THE MUMMY'S FOOT. 


“Assuredly that is not a common article; but, 
still, how much do you want? In the first place 
let me warn you that all my wealth consists of 
just five louis : I can buy anything that costs five 
louis, but nothing dearer; — you might search my 
vest pockets and most secret drawers without 
even finding one poor five-franc piece more.” 

“ Five louis for the foot of the Princess Her- 
monthis ! that is very little, very little indeed ; ’tis 
an authentic foot,” muttered the merchant, shak- 
ing his head, and imparting a peculiar rotary 
motion to his eyes. “Well, take it, and I will 
give you the bandages into the bargain,” he added, 
wrapping the foot in an ancient damask rag — 
“very fine! real damask — Indian damask which 
has never been redyed ; it is strong, and yet it is 
soft,” he mumbled, stroking the frayed tissue with 
his fingers, through the trade-acquired habit which 
moved him to praise even an object ot so little 
value that he himself deemed it only worth the 
giving away. 

He poured the gold coins into a sort of medi- 
aeval alms-purse hanging at his belt, repeating: — 
“ The foot of the Princess Hermonthis, to be 
used for a paper-weight ! ” 

Then turning his phosphorescent eyes upon 
me, he exclaimed in a voice strident as the crying 
ef a cat which has swallowed a fish-bone: 


THE MUMMY S FOOT. 


189 


“ Old Pharaoh will not be well pleased : he 
loved his daughter, — the dear man ! ” 

“ You speak as if you were a contemporary of 
his : you are old enough, goodness knows ! but 
you do not date back to the Pyramids of Egypt,” 
I answered, laughingly, from the threshold. 

I went home, delighted with my acquisition. 

With the idea of putting it to profitable use as 
soon as possible, I placed the foot of the divine 
Princess Hermonthis upon a heap of papers 
scribbled over with verses, in themselves an unde- 
cipherable mosaic work of erasures ; articles 
freshly began ; letters forgotten, and posted in 
the table drawer instead of the letter-box, — an 
error to which absent-minded people are pecu- 
liarly liable. The effect was charming, bizarre 
and romantic. 

Well satisfied with this embellishment, I went 
out with the gravity and pride becoming one who 
feels that he has the ineffable advantage over all 
the passers-by whom he elbows, of possessing a 
piece of the Princess Hermonthis, daughter of 
Pharaoh. 

I looked upon all who did not possess, like my- 
self, a paper weight so authentically Egyptian, as 
very ridiculous people ; and it seemed to me 
that the proper occupation of every sensible man 


THE MUMMY’S FOOT. 


190 


should consist in the mere fact of having a 
mummy’s foot upon his desk. 

Happily I met some friends, whose presence 
distracted me in my infatuation with this new 
acquisition : I went to dinner with them ; for I 
could not very well have dined with myself. 

When I came back that evening, with my brain 
slightly confused by a few glasses of wine, a vague 
whiff of Oriental perfume delicately titillated my 
olfactory nerves : the heat of the room had 
warmed the natron, bitumen, and myrrh in which 
the paraschistes , who cut open the bodies of the 
dead, had bathed the corpse of the princess ; — 
it was a perfume at once sweet and penetrating, 
- — a perfume that four thousand years had not 
been able to dissipate. 

The Dream of Egypt was Eternity : her odors 
have the solidity of granite, and endure as long. 

I soon drank deeply from the black cup of 
sleep : for a few hours all remained opaque to me; 
Oblivion and Nothingness inundated me with 
their somber waves. 

Yet light gradually dawned upon the darkness 
of my mind: dreams commenced to touch me 
softly in their silent flight. 

The eyes of my soul were opened ; and I be- 
held my chamber as it actually was: I might 


THE MUMMY’S FOOT. 


'9 


have believed myself awake, but for a vague con- 
sciousness which assured me that I slept, and 
that something fantastic was about to take place. 

The odor of the myrrh had augmented in in- 
tensity : and I felt a slight headache, which I very 
naturally attributed to several glasses of cham- 
pagne that we had drank to the unknown gods 
and our future fortunes. 

I peered- through my room with a feeling of 
expectation which I saw nothing to justify : every 
article of furniture was in its proper place ; the 
lamp, softly shaded by its globe of ground crys- 
tal, burned upon its bracket; the water-color 
sketches shone under their Bohemian glass ; the 
curtains hung down languidly ; everything wore 
an aspect of tranquil slumber. 

After a few moments, however, all this calm 
interior appeared to become disturbed ; the wood- 
work cracked stealthily ; the ash-covered log sud- 
denly emitted a jet of blue flame ; and the disks 
of the pateras seemed like great metallic eyes, 
watching, like myself, for the things which were 
about to happen. 

My eyes accidentally fell upon the desk where 
I had placed the foot of the Princess Hermonthis. 

Instead of remaining quiet — as behooved a 
foot which had been embalmed for four thousand 


192 


THE MUMMY'S FOOT 


years, — it commenced to act in a nervous man- 
ner; contracted itself, and leaped over the papers 
like a startled frog ; — one would have imagined 
that it had suddenly been brought into contact 
with a galvanic battery: I could distinctly hear 
the dry sound made by its little heel, hard as the 
hoof of a gazelle. 

I became rather discontented with my acquisi- 
tion, inasmuch as I wished my paper-weights to 
be of a sedentary disposition, and thought it very 
unnatural that feet should walk about without 
legs; and I commenced to experience a feeling 
closely akin to fear. 

Suddenly I saw the folds of my bed-curtain 
stir ; and heard a bumping sound, like that caused 
by some person hopping on one foot across the 
floor. I must confess I became alternately hot 
and cold ; that I felt a strange wind chill my back ; 
and that my suddenly-rising hair caused my night- 
cap to execute a leap of several yards. 

The bed-curtains opened and I beheld the 
strangest figure imaginable before me. 

It was a young girl of a very deep coffee-brown 
complexion, like the bayadere Amani, and possess- 
ing the purest Egyptian type of perfect beauty : 
her eyes were almond-shaped and oblique, with 
eyebrows so black that they seemed blue ; her 


THE MUMMY'S FOOT. 


193 


« . 

nose was exquisitely chiseled, almost Greek in its 
delicacy of outline ; and she might indeed have 
been taken for a Corinthian statue of bronze, but 
for the prominence of her cheek-bones and the 
slightly African fullness of her lips, which com- 
pelled one to recognize her as belonging beyond 
all doubt to the hieroglyphic race which dwelt 
upon the banks of the Nile. 

Her arms, slender and spindle-shaped, like those 
of very young girls, were encircled by a peculiar 
kind of metal bands, and bracelets of glass beads ; 
her hair was all twisted into little cords ; and she 
wore upon her bosom a little idol-figure of green 
paste, bearing a whip with seven lashes, which 
proved it to be an image of Isis : her brow was 
adorned with a shining plate of gold ; and a few 
traces ot paint relieved the coppery tint of her 
cheeks. 

As for her costume, it was very odd indeed. 

Fancy a pagne or skirt all formed of little 
strips of material bedizened with red and 
black hieroglyphics, stiffened with bitumen, and 
apparently belonging to a freshly unbandaged 
mummy. 

In one of those sudden flights of thought so 
common in dreams I heard the hoarse falsetto of 
the bric-a-brac dealer, repeating like a monoto- 


194 


THE MUMMY'S FOOT. 


nous refrain, the phrase he had uttered in his 
shop with so enigmatical an intonation : 

“ Old Pharaoh will not be well pleased : he 
loved his daughter, the dear man ! ” 

One strange circumstance, which was not at all 
calculated to restore my equanimity, was that the 
apparition had but one foot ; the other was broken 
off at the ankle ! 

She approached the table where the foot was 
starting and fidgetting about more than ever; and 
there supported herself upon the edge of the desk. 
I saw her eyes fill with pearly-gleaming tears. 

Although she had not as yet spoken, I fully 
comprehended the thoughts which agitated her: 
she looked at her foot — for it was indeed her 
own — with an exquisitely graceful expression of 
coquettish sadness ; but the foot leaped and ran 
hither and thither, as though impelled on steel 
springs. 

Twice or thrice she extended her hand to seize 
it, but could not succeed. 

Then commenced between the Princess Her- 
monthis and her foot — which appeared to be en- 
dowed with a special life of its own — a very 
fantastic dialogue in a most ancient Coptic tongue, 
such as might have been spoken thirty centuries 
ago in the syrinxes of the land of Ser: luckily I 
understood Coptic perfectly well that night. 


THE MUMMY'S FOOT. 


195 


The Princess Hermonthis cried, in a voice 
sweet and vibrant as the tones of a crystal bell : 

“Well, my dear little foot, you always flee 
from me ; yet I always took good care of you. I 
bathed you with perfumed water in a bowl of ala- 
baster; I smoothed your heel with pumice-stone 
mixed with palm oil ; your nails were cut with 
golden scissors and polished with a hippopota- 
mus tooth ; I was careful to select tatbebs for you, 
painted and embroidered and turned up at the 
toes, which were the envy of all the young girls 
in Egypt : you wore on your great toe rings bear- 
ing the device of the sacred Scarabæus ; and you 
supported one of the lightest bodies that a lazy 
foot could sustain.” 

The foot replied in a pouting and chagrined 
tone: — 

“You know well that I do not belong to my- 
self any longer : — I have been bought and paid 
for : the old merchant knew what he was about : 
he bore you a grudge for having refused to es- 
pouse him : — this is an ill turn which he has done 
you. The Arab who violated your royal coffin in 
the subterranean pits of the necropolis of Thebes 
was sent thither by him : he desired to prevent 
you from being present at the reunion of the 
shadowy nations in the cities below. Have you 
five pieces of gold for my ransom ? ” 


96 


THE MUMMY’S FOOT. 


“Alas, no!” — my jewels, my rings, my purses 
of gold and silver, were all stolen from me,” an- 
swered the Princess Hermonthis, with a sob. 

“ Princess,” I then exclaimed, “ I never retained 
anybody’s foot unjustly; — even though you have 
not got the five louis which it cost me, I present 
it to you gladly: I should feel unutterably wretched 
to think that I were the cause of so amiable a 
person as the Princess Hermonthis being lame.” 

I delivered this discourse in a royally gallant, 
troubadour tone which must have astonished the 
beautiful Egyptian girl. 

She turned a look of deepest gratitude upon 
me ; and her eyes shone with bluish gleams of 
light. 

She took her foot, — which surrendered itself 
willingly this time, — like a woman about to put 
on her little shoe ; and adjusted it to her leg with 
much skill. 

This operation over, she took a few steps about 
the room ; as though to assure herself that she 
was really no longer lame. 

“ Ah, how pleased my father will be ! — he who 
was so unhappy because of my mutilation ; and 
who from the moment of my birth, set a whole 
nation at work to hollow me out a tomb so deep 
that he might preserve me intact until that last 


THE MUMMY S FOOT 


197 


day, when souls must be weighed in the balance 
of Amenthi ! Come with me to my father; — he 
will receive you kindly ; for you have given me 
back my foot.” 

I thought this proposition natural enough. I 
arrayed myself in a dressing-gown of large-flow- 
ered pattern, which lent me a very Pharaonic 
aspect; hurriedly put on a pair of Turkish slip- 
pers ; and informed the Princess Hermonthis that 
I was ready to follow her. 

Before starting, Hermonthis took from her neck 
the little idol of green paste, and laid it on the 
scattered sheets of paper which covered the table. 

“ It is only fair,” she observed, smilingly, “ that 
I should replace your paper-weight.” 

She gave me her hand, which felt soft and cold, 
like the skin of a serpent; and we departed. 

We passed for some time with the velocity of 
an arrow through a fluid and greyish expanse, in 
which half-formed silhouettes flitted swiftly by us, 
to right and left. 

For an instant we saw only sky and sea. 

A few moments later obelisks commenced to 
tower in the distance: pylons and vast flights of 
steps guarded by sphinxes became clearly outlined 
against the horizon. 

We liad reached our destination 


198 


THE MUMMY'S FOOT, 


The princess conducted me to a mountain of 
rose-colored granite, in the face of which appeared 
an opening so narrow and low that it would have 
been difficult to distinguish it from the fissures in 
the rock, had not its location been marked by two 
stelae wrought with sculptures. 

Hermonthis kindled a torch, and led the way 
before me. 

We traversed corridors hewn through the liv- 
ing rock : their walls, covered with hieroglyphics 
and paintings of allegorical processions, might 
well have occupied thousands of arms for thou- 
sands of years in their formation; — these corri- 
dors, of interminable length, opened into square 
chambers, in the midst of which pits had been 
contrived, through which we descended by cramp- 
irons or spiral stairways; — these pits again con- 
ducted us into other chambers, opening into other 
corridors, likewise decorated with painted spar- 
row-hawks, serpents coiled in circles, the symbols 
of the tau and pedum , — prodigious works of art 
which no living eye can ever examine, — inter- 
minable legends of granite which only the dead 
have time to read through all eternity. 

At last we found ourselves in a hall so vast, so 
enormous, so immeasurable, that the eye could 
not reach its limits ; files of monstrous columns 


THE MUMMY'S FOOT. 


199 


stretched far out of sight on every side, between 
which twinkled livid stars of yellowish flame ; — 
points of light which revealed further depths in- 
calculable in the darkness beyond. 

The Princess Hermonthis still held my hand, 
and graciously saluted the mummies of her 
acquaintance. 

My eyes became accustomed to the dim twi- 
light; and objects became discernible. 

I beheld the kings of the subterranean races 
seated upon thrones, — grand old men, though 
dry, withered, wrinkled like parchment, and 
blackened with naphtha and bitumen, — all wear- 
ing pshents of gold, and breast-plates and gorgets 
glittering with precious stones ; their eyes im- 
movably fixed like the eyës of sphinxes, and their 
long beards whitened by the snow of centuries. 
Behind them stood their peoples, in the stiff and 
constrained posture enjoined by Egyptian art, all 
eternally preserving the attitude prescribed by 
the hieratic code. Behind these nations, the cats, 
ibixes, and crocodiles cotemporary with them, — 
rendered monstrous of aspect by their swathing 
bands, — mewed, flapped their wings, or extended 
their jaws in a saurian giggle. 

All the Pharaohs were there — Cheops, Cheph- 
tenes, Psammetichus, Sesostris, Amenotaph — all 


200 


THE MUMMY'S FOOT. 


the dark rulers of the pyramids and syrinxes: — on 
yet higher thrones sat Chronos and Xixouthros, 
— who was contemporary with the deluge; and 
Tubal Cain, who reigned before it. 

The beard of King Xixouthros had grown 
seven times around the granite table, upon which 
he leaned, lost in deep reverie, — and buried in 
dreams. 

Further back, through a dusty cloud, I beheld 
dimly the seventy-two Preadamite Kings, with 
their seventy-two peoples — forever passed away. 

After permitting me to gaze upon this bewilder- 
ing spectacle a few moments, the Princess Her- 
monthis presented me to her father Pharaoh, 
who favored me with a most gracious nod. 

“ I have found my foot again ! — I have found 
my foot ! ” cried the princess, clapping her little 
hands together with every sign of frantic joy: “it 
was this gentleman who restored it to me.” 

The races of Kemi, the races of Nahasi, — all 
the black, bronzed, and copper-colored nations 
repeated in chorus : 

“The Princess Hermonthis has found her foot 
again ! ” 

Even Xixouthros himself was visibly affected. 

He raised his heavy eyelids, stroked his mous- 
tache with his fingers, and turned upon me a 
glance weighty with centuries. 


THE MUMMY'S FOOT. 


201 


“ By Oms, the dog of Hell, and Tmei, daugh- 
ter of the Sun and of Truth ! this is a brave and 
worthy lad !” exclaimed Pharaoh, pointing to me 
with his scepter which was terminated with a 
lotus-flower. 

“ What recompense do you desire ? ” 

Filled with that daring inspired by dreams in 
which nothing seems impossible, I asked him for 
the hand of the Princess Hermonthis; — the hand 
seemed to me a very proper antithetic recom- 
pense for the foot. 

Pharaoh opened wide his great eyes of glass 
in astonishment at my witty request. 

“ What country do you come from ? and what 
is your age ? ” 

“I am a Frenchman; and I am twenty-seven 
years old, venerable Pharaoh.” 

“ — - — Twenty-seven years old! and he wishes 
to espouse the Princess Hermonthis, who is thirty 
centuries old ! ” — cried out at once all the Thrones 
and all the Circles of Nations. 

Only Hermonthis herself did not seem to think 
my request unreasonable. 

“ If you were even only two thousand years 
old,” replied the ancient King, “ I would willingly 
give you the Princess; but the disproportion is 
too great ; and, besides, we must give our daugh- 


202 


THE MUMMY'S FOOT. 


ters husbands who will last well : you do not 
know how to preserve yourselves any longer; even 
those who died only fifteen centuries ago are 
already no more than a handful of dust ; — be- 
hold ! my flesh is solid as basalt ; my bones are 
bars of steel ! 

“ I will be present on the last day of the world, 
with the same body and the same features which 
I had during my life-time : my daughter Hermon- 
this will last longer than a statue of bronze. 

“ Then the last particles of your dust will have 
been scattered abroad by the winds ; and even 
Isis herself, who was able to find the atoms of 
Osiris, would scarce be able to recompose your 
being. 

“See how vigorous I yet remain, and how 
mighty is my grasp,” he added, shaking my hand 
In the English fashion with a strength that buried 
my rings in the flesh of my fingers. 

He squeezed me so hard that I awoke, and 
found my friend Alfred shaking me by the arm 
to make me get up. 

“ O you everlasting sleeper ! — must I have you 
carried out into the middle of the street, and fire- 
works exploded in your ears ? It is after noon ; 
don’t you recollect your promise to take me with 
you to see M. Aguado’s Spanish pictures ? ” 


THE MUMMY’S FOOT. 


203 


“ God ! I forgot all, all about it,” I answered, 
dressing myself hurriedly; “we will go there at 
once ; I have the permit lying there on my desk.” 

I started to find it ; — but fancy my astonish- 
ment when I beheld, instead of the mummy’s foot 
I had purchased the evening before, the little 
green paste idol left in its place by the princess 
Hermonthis 1 


OMPHALE: A ROCOCO STORY. 


My uncle, the Chevalier de . . resided in 
a small mansion which looked out upon the dis- 
mal Rue de Tournelles on one side, and the 
equally dismal Boulevard St. Antoine upon the 
other. Between the Boulevard and the house 
itself a few ancient elm-trees, eaten alive by 
mosses and insects, piteously extended their skele- 
ton arms from the depth of a species of sink 
surrounded by high black walls. Some emaci- 
ated flowers hung their heads languidly, like 
young girls in consumption ; waiting for a ray of 
sunshine to dry their half-rotten leaves. Weeds 
had invaded the walks, which were almost undis- 
tinguishable owing to the length of time that had 
elapsed since they were last raked. One or two 
goldfish floated rather than swam in a basin 
covered with duckweed and half-choked by water 
plants. 

My uncle called that his garden ! 

Besides all the fine things above described 
in my uncle’s garden, there was also a rather 
unpleasant pavilion, which he had entitled the 

(204) 


OMPHALE. 


205 


Délices , — doubtless by antiphrasis. It was in a 
state of extreme dilapidation. The walls were 
bulging outwardly ; great masses of detached 
plaster still lay among the nettles and wild oats 
where they had fallen ; the lower portions of the 
wall-surfaces were green with putrid mold; the 
woodwork of the window-shutters and doors had 
been badly sprung, and they closed only partially 
or not at all. A species of decoration, strongly 
suggestive of an immense kitchen-pot with various 
effluvia radiating from it, ornamented the main 
entrance ; for in the time of Louis XV, when it 
was the custom to build Délices , there were always 
two entrances to such pleasure houses for pre- 
caution’s sake. The cornice, overburthened with 
ovulos, foliated arabesques, and volutes, had been 
badly dismantled by the infiltration of rain-water. 
In short, the Délices of my uncle, the Chevalier 
de . . presented a rather lamentable aspect. 

This poor ruin, — dating only from yesterday, 
although wearing the dilapidated look of a thous- 
and years’ decay, — a ruin of plaster, not of stone, — 
all cracked and warped ; covered with a leprosy of 
lichen growths, moss-eaten and moldy — seemed 
to resemble one of those precociously old men 
worn out by filthy debauches : it inspired no feel- 
ing of respect ; for there is nothing in the world 


206 


OMPHALE. 


so ugly and so wretched as either an old gauze 
robe or an old plaster-wall, — two things which 
ought not to endure, yet which do. 

It was in this pavilion that my uncle had lodged 
me. 

The interior was not less rococo than the exte- 
rior, although remaining in a somewhat better 
state of preservation. The bed was hung with 
yellow lampas, spotted over with large white flow- 
ers. An ornamental shell-work clock ticked away 
upon a pedestal inlaid with ivory and mother-of- 
pearl. A wreath of ornamental roses coquettishly 
twined around a Venetian glass : above the door 
the Four Seasons were painted in cameo. A fair 
lady with thickly-powdered hair, a sky-blue corset, 
and an array of ribbons of the same hue; who 
had a bow in her right hand, a partridge in her 
left, a crescent upon her forehead, and a leverette 
at her feet, — strutted and smiled with ineffable 
graciousness from within a large oval frame. 
This was one of my uncle’s mistresses of old, 
whom he had had painted as Diana. It will 
scarcely be necessary to observe that the furniture 
itself was not of the most modern style : there 
was, in fact, nothing to prevent one from fancying 
himself living at the time of the Regency; and 
the mythological tapestry with which the walls 
were hung rendered the illusion complete. 


OMPHALE . 


207 


The tapestry represented Hercules spinning at 
the feet of Omphale. The design was tormented 
after the fashion of Vanloo, and in the most Pom- 
padour style possible to imagine. Hercules had a 
spindle decorated with rose-colored favors; he ele- 
vated his little finger with a peculiar and special 
grace, — like a marquis in the act of taking a pinch 
of snuff, — while turning a white flake of flax be- 
tween his thumb and index finger ; his muscular 
neck was burthened with bows of ribbons, rosettes, 
strings of pearls, and a thousand other feminine 
gew-gaws ; and a large gorge-de-pigeon colored 
petticoat, with two very large panniers, lent quite 
a gallant air to the monster-conquering hero. 

Omphale’s white shoulders were half-covered 
by the skin of the Nemean lion ; her slender 
hand leaned upon her lover’s knotty club; her 
lovely blonde hair, powdered to ash-color, fell 
loosely over her neck — a neck as supple and undu- 
lating in its outlines as the neck of a dove ; her 
little feet — true realizations of the typical Anda- 
lusian or Chinese foot, and which would have 
been lost in Cinderella’s glass slippers — were shod 
with half-antique buskins of a tender lilac color, 
sprinkled with pearls. In truth, she was a charm- 
ing creature. Her head was thrown back with an 
adorable little mock swagger ; her dimpled mouth 


2c8 


OMPHALE. 


wore a delicious little pout; her nostrils were 
slightly expanded ; her cheeks had a delicate glow 
— an assassin* cunningly placed there relieved 
their beauty in a wonderful way; she only needed 
a little moustache to make her a first-class mous- 
quetaire. 

There were many other personages also repre- 
sented in the tapestry, — the kindly female attend- 
ant, the indispensable little Cupid ; but they did 
not leave a sufficiently distinct outline in my 
memory to enable me to describe them. 

In those days I was quite young, — not that I 
wish to be understood as saying that I am now 
very old ; but I was fresh from college, and was 
to remain in my uncle’s care until I could choose 
a profession. If the good man had been able to 
foresee that I should embrace that of a fantastic 
story-writer, he would certainly have turned me 
out of doors forthwith and irrevocably disinherited 
me ; for he always entertained the most aristo- 
cratic contempt for literature in general and 
authors in particular. Like the fine gentleman 
that he was, it would have pleased him to have 
had all those petty scribblers who busy themselves 
in disfiguring paper, and speaking irreverentially 
about people of quality, — hung or beaten to death 


* Beauty-spot. 


OMPHALE. 


209 


by his attendants. Lord have mercy on my poor 
uncle! — he really esteemed nothing in the world 
except the epistle to Zetulba. 

Well, then, I had only just left college. I was 
full of dreams and illusions ; I was as naive as a 
rosière of Salency, — perhaps more so. Delighted 
at having no more pensums to make, everything 
seemed to me for the best in the best of all possi- 
ble worlds. I believed in an infinity of things : 
I believed in M. de Florian’s Shepherdess, with 
her combed and powdered sheep ; I never for a 
moment doubted the reality of Madame Deshou- 
lière’s flock. I believed that there were actually 
nine muses, as stated in Father Jouvency’s Appen- 
dix de Diis et Herdibus. My recollections of 
Berquin and of Gessner had created a little world 
for me in which everything was rose-colored, 
sky-blue, and apple-green. O holy innocence! — 
sa,7icta simp licit as ! as Mephistopheles says. 

When I found myself alone in this fine room, 
— my own room, all to myself! — I felt superla- 
tively overjoyed. I made a careful inventory of 
every thing, even the smallest article of furniture ; 
I rummaged every corner, and explored the cham- 
ber in the fullest sense of the word. I was in the 
fourth heaven, as happy as a king, or rather as 
two kings. After supper (for we used to sup at 


210 


OMPHALE. 


my uncle’s — a charming custom, now obsolete, 
together with many other equally charming cus- 
toms which I mourn for with all the heart I have 
left), I took my candle and retired forthwith, so 
impatient did I feel to enjoy my new dwelling- 
place. 

While I was undressing, I fancied that Om- 
phale’s eyes had moved: I looked more atten- 
tively in that direction, not without a slight sensa- 
tion of fear ; for the room was very large, and the 
feeble luminous penumbra which floated about 
the candle only served to render the darkness 
still more visible. I thought I saw her turning 
her head towards me. I became frightened in 
earnest, and blew out the light. I turned my face 
to the wall, pulled the bed-clothes over my head, 
drew my night-cap down to my chin, and finally 
went to sleep. 

I did not dare to look at the accursed tapestry 
again for several days. 

It may be well here, — for the sake of imparting 
something of verisimilitude to the very unlikely 
story I am about to relate, — to inform my fair 
readers that in those days I was really a very 
pretty boy. I had the handsomest eyes in the 
world, — at least they used to tell me so ; a much 
fairer complexion than I have now, — a true carna- 


OMPHALE. 


21 1 


tion tint; curly-brown hair, which I still have, 
and seventeen years, which I have no longer. I 
needed only a pretty stepmother to be a very 
tolerable Cherub ; — unfortunately mine was fifty- 
seven years of age, and had only three teeth, 
which was too much of one thing, and too little 
of the other. 

One evening, however, I finally plucked up 
courage enough to take a peep at the fair mis- 
tress of Hercules: — she was looking at me with 
the saddest and most languishing expression pos- 
sible. This time I pulled my nightcap down to 
my very shoulders, and buried my head in the 
coverlets. 

I had a strange dream that night, — if indeed it 
was a dream. 

I heard the rings of my bed-curtains sliding 
with a sharp squeak upon their curtain-rods, as if 
the curtains had been suddenly pulled back. I 
awoke, — at least in my dream it seemed to me 
that I awoke. I saw no one. 

The moon shone full upon the window-panes, 
and projected her wan bluish light into the 
room. Vast shadows, fantastic forms, were de- 
fined upon the floor* and the walls. The clock 
chimed a quarter, and the vibration of the sound 
took a long time to die away : it seemed like a 


212 


OMPHALE. 


sigh. The plainly audible strokes of the pen- 
dulum seemed like the pulsations of a young 
heart, throbbing with passion. 

I felt anything but comfortable; and a very 
bewilderment of fear took possession of me. 

A furious gust of wind banged the shutters and 
made the window-sashes tremble. The wood- 
work cracked ; the tapestry undulated. I ven- 
tured to glance in the direction of Omphale, with 
a vague suspicion that she was instrumental in 
all this unpleasantness, for some secret purpose 
of her own. I was not mistaken. 

The tapestry became violently agitated. Om- 
phale detached herself from the wall and leaped 
lightly to the carpet : she came straight towards 
my bed, after having first turned herself carefully 
in my direction. I fancy it will hardly be neces- 
sary to describe my stupefaction. The most 
intrepid old soldier would not have felt very 
comfortable under similar circumstances; and I 
was neither old nor a soldier. I awaited the end 
of the adventure in terrified silence. 

A flute-toned, pearly little voice sounded softly 
in my ears, with that pretty lisp affected during 
the Regency by Marchionesses and people of 
high degree : — 

“Do I really frighten you, my child? It is 


OMPHALE . 


213 


true that you are only a child : but it is not nice 
to be afraid of ladies, especially when they are 
young ladies and only wish you well; — it is 
uncivil and unworthy of a French gentleman: 
you must be cured of such silly fears. Come, 
little savage, leave off these foolish airs, and 
cease hiding your head under the bedclothes. 
Your education is by no means complete yet, my 
pretty page; and you have not learned so very 
much : in my time Cherubs were more cour- 
ageous.” 

“ But, lady, it is because . . . 

“ Because it seems strange to you to find me 
here instead of there,” she said, biting her ruddy 
lip with her white teeth, and pointing toward the 
wall with her long taper finger. “ Well, in fact the 
thing does not look very natural ; but were I to 
explain it all to you you would be none the wiser : 
let it be sufficient for you to know that you are 
not in any danger.” 

“ I am afraid you may be the — the . . . 

“The Devil — out with the word! — is it not? 
that is what you wanted to say. Well, at least 
you will grant that I am not black enough for a 
devil ; and that, if hell were peopled with devils 
shaped as I am, one might have quite as pleasant 
a time there as in Paradise.” 


214 


OMPHALE . 


And, to prove that she was not flattering her- 
self, Omphale threw back her lion’s skin and 
allowed me to behold her exquisitely molded 
shoulders and bosom, dazzling in their white 
beauty. 

“Well, what do you think of me?” she 
exclaimed with a pretty little air of satisfied 
coquetry. 

“ I think that, even were you the devil himself, 
I should not feel afraid of you any more, Madame 
Omphale.” 

“Ah, now you talk sensibly; but do not call 
me Madame, or Omphale. I do not wish you to 
look upon me as a Madame ; and I am no more 
Omphale than I am the devil.” 

“ Then who are you ? ” 

“ I am the Marchioness de T ... A 
short time after I was married the Marquis had 
this tapestry made for my apartments, and had 
me represented on it in the character of Omphale : 
he himself figures there as Hercules. That was 
a queer notion he took; for God knows there 
never was anybody in the world who bore less 
resemblancé to Hercules than the poor Marquis ! 
It has been a long time since this chamber was 
occupied : I naturally love company, and I almost 
died of ennui in consequence. It gave me the 


OMPHALE, 


215 


headache. To be only with one’s husband is the 
same thing as being alone. When you came, I 
was overjoyed, this dead room became reanimated; 
I had found some one to feel interested in. I 
watched you come in and go out ; I heard you 
murmuring in your sleep ; I watched you read- 
ing, and my eyes followed the pages. I found 
you were nicely behaved, and had a fresh, innocent 
way about you that pleased me ; — in short, I fell 
in love with you. I tried to make you under- 
stand ; I sighed, — you thought it was only the 
sighing of the wind ; I made signs to you ; I 
looked at you with languishing eyes, and only 
succeeded in frightening you terribly. So at last 
' in despair I resolved upon this rather improper 
course which I have taken, — to tell you frankly 
what you could not take a hint about. Now that 
you know I love you, I hope that . . ” 

The conversation was interrupted at this junc- 
ture by the grating of a key in the lock of the 
chamber door. 

Omphale started and blushed to the very 
whites of her eyes. 

“ Adieu,” she whispered, — “ till to-morrow.” 
And she returned to her place on the wall ; walk- 
ing backward, for fear that I should see her 
reverse side, doubtless. 


21 6 


OMPHALE. 


It was Baptiste, who came to brush my clothes. 

“You ought not to sleep with your bed-curtains 
open, sir,” he remarked : “You might catch a bad 
cold ; — this room is so chilly.” 

The curtains were actually open ; and as I had 
been under the impression that I was only dream- 
ing I felt very much astonished ; for I was cer- 
tain that they had been closed when I went to 
bed. 

As soon as Baptiste left the room, I ran to the 
tapestry, I felt it all over; jt was indeed a real 
woolen tapestry, rough to the touch like any other 
tapestry. Omphale resembled the charming 
phantom of the night only as a dead body 
resembles a living one. I lifted the hangings: 
the wall was solid throughout; there were no 
masked panels or secret doors. I only noticed 
that a few threads were broken in the ground- 
work of the tapestry where the feet of Omphale 
rested. This afforded me food for reflection. 

All that day I remained buried in the deepest 
brown study imaginable: I longed for evening 
with a mingled feeling of anxiety and impatience. 
1 retired early, resolved on learning how this 
mystery was going to end. I got into bed : the 
Marchioness did not keep me waiting long ; — she 
leaped down from the tapestry in front of the 


OMPHALE. 


21 7 


pier-glass, and dropped right by my bed: she 
seated herself by my pillow, and the conversation 
commenced. 

I asked her questions as 1 had done the even- 
ing before, and demanded explanations. She 
eluded the former, and replied in an evasive 
manner to the latter ; yet always after so witty a 
fashion that within a quarter of an hour I felt 
no scruples whatever in regard to my liaison with 
her. 

While conversing, she passed her fingers 
through my hair, tapped me gently on the cheeks, 
and softly kissed my forehead. 

She chatted and chatted in a pretty mocking 
way — in a style at once elegantly polished and 
yet familiar and altogether like a great lady — 
such as I have never since heard from the lips of 
any human being. 

She was then seated upon the easy chair beside 
the bed : in a little while she slipped one of her 
arms around my neck ; and I felt her heart beat- 
ing passionately against me. It was indeed a 
charming and handsome real woman, — a veritable 
marchioness whom I found beside me. Poor 
student of seventeen! There was more than 
enough to make one lose his head, so I lost mine. 
I did not know very well what was going to hap- 


OMPHALE . 


pen: but I felt a vague presentiment that it 
would displease the Marquis. 

“And Monsieur le Marquis, on the wall up 
there, — what will he say? ” 

The lion’s skin had fallen to the floor ; and the 
soft lilac-colored buskins, filagreed with silver, 
were lying beside my shoes. 

“He will not say anything,” replied the March- 
ioness, laughing heartily. “ Do you suppose he 
ever sees anything. Besides, even should he see, 
he is the most philosophical and inoffensive hus- 
band in the world. He is used to such things. — 
Do you love me, little one ? ” 

“ Indeed I do, — ever so much ! — ever so much ?” 


Morning dawned : my mistress stole away. 

The day seemed to me frightfully long. At 
last evening came. The same things happened 
as on the evening before ; and the second night 
left no regrets for the first. The Marchioness 
became more and more adorable ; and this state 
of affairs continued for a long time. As I never 
slept at night, I wore a somnolent expression in 
the daytime, which did not augur well for me 
with my uncle. He suspected something: he 
probably listened at the door and heard every- 
thing ; for one fine morning he entered my room 


O MP H ALE, 


219 


so brusquely that Antoinette had scarcely time to 
get back to her place on the tapestry. 

He was followed by a tapestry-hanger, with 
pincers and a ladder. 

He looked at me with a shrewd and severe 
expression which convinced me that he knew all. 

“ This Marchioness de T . . is certainly 

crazy: what the devil could have put it into her 
head to fall in love with a brat like that ? ” — mut- 
tered my uncle between his teeth, — “ she promised 
to behave herself ! 

“Jean, take that tapestry down; roll it up, 
and put it in the garret.” 

Every word my uncle spoke went through my 
heart like a poniard-thrust. 

Jean rolled up my sweetheart Omphale — 
otherwise the Marchioness Antoinette de T . . ; 

together with Hercules, or the Marquis de T . . , 

— and carried the whole thing off to the garret. 
I could not restrain my tears. 

Next day my uncle sent me back, in the B 

diligence, to my respectable parents — to whom, 
you may feel assured, I never breathed a word of 
my adventure. 

My uncle died : his house and furniture were 
sold; probably the tapestry was sold with the 
rest. 


220 


OMPHALE. 


But a long time afterward, while foraging the 
shop of a bric-a-brac merchant in search of oddi- 
ties, I stumbled over a great dusty roll of some- 
thing covered with cobwebs. 

“What is that?” I said to the Auvergnat. 

“ That is a rococo tapestry representing the 
amours of Madame Omphale and Monsieur 
Hercule; it is genuine Beauvais, worked in silk, 
and in an excellent state of preservation. Buy 
this from me for your study : I will not charge 
you dear for it, since it is you.” 

At the name of Omphale, all my blood rushed 
to my heart. 

“Unroll that tapestry,” I said to the merchant 
in a hurried, gasping voice, like one in a fever. 

It was indeed she ! I fancied that her mouth 
smiled graciously at me, and that her eye lighted 
up on meeting mine. 

“ How much do you ask ? ” 

“ Well, I could not possibly let you have it for 
any less than five hundred francs.” 

“ I have not that much with me now, I will get 
it, and be back in an hour.” 

I returned with the money ; but the tapestry 
was no longer there. An Englishman had bar- 
gained for it during my absence, offered six hund- 
red francs for it, and taken it away with him. 


OMPHALE. 


221 


After all, perhaps it was best that it should 
have been thus ; and that I should preserve this 
delicious souvenir intact. They say one should 
never return to a first love, or look at the rose 
which one admired the evening before. 

And then I am no longer so young or so 
pretty that tapestries should come down from 
their walls to honor me. 


KING CANDAULES. 


CHAPTER I. 

Five "hundred years before the Trojan war, and 
seventeen hundred and fifteen years before our 
own era, there was a grand festival at Sardes. 
King Candaules was going to marry. The people 
were affected with that sort of pleasurable in- 
terest and aimless emotion wherewith any royal 
event inspires the masses, even though it in no 
wise concerns them, and transpires in superior 
spheres of life which they can never hope to 
reach. 

As soon as Phoebus- Apollo, standing in his quad- 
riga, had gilded to saffron the summits of fertile 
Mount Tmolus with his rays, the good people of 
Sardes were all astir — going and coming, mount- 
ing or descending the marble stairways leading 
from the city to the waters of the Pactolus, that 
opulent river whose sands Midas filled with tiny 
sparks of gold, when he bathed in its stream. 
One would have supposed that each one of these 
good citizens was himself about to marry, so 
solemn and important was the demeanor of all. 

(222) 


KING CANDAULES. 


223 


Men were gathering in groups in the Agora, 
upon the steps of the temples and along the por- 
ticoes. At every street corner one might have en- 
countered women leading by the hand little chil- 
dren, whose uneven walk ill suited the maternal 
anxiety and impatience. Maidens were hastening 
to the fountains — all with urns gracefully bal- 
anced upon their heads, or sustained by their 
white arms as with natural handles — so as to 
procure early the necessary water provision for 
the household, and thus obtain leisure at the hour 
when the nuptial procession should pass. Wash- 
erwomen hastily folded the still damp tunics and 
chlamidæ, and piled them upon mule-wagons. 
Slaves turned the mill without any need of the 
overseer’s whip to tickle their naked and scar- 
seamed shoulders. Sardes was hurrying itself to 
finish with those necessary every-day cares which 
no festival can wholly disregard. 

The road along which the procession was to pass 
had been strewn with fine yellow sand. Brazen 
tripods, disposed along the way at regular inter- 
vals, sent up to heaven the odorous smoke of cin- 
namon and spikenard. These vapors, moreover, 
alone clouded the purity of the azure above ; the 
clouds of a hymeneal day ought, indeed, to be 
formed only by the burning of perfumes. Myr- 


224 


KING CANDAULES. 


tie and rose-laurel brandies were strewn upon the 
ground ; and from the walls of the palaces were 
suspended by little rings of bronze rich tapestries, 
whereon the needles of industrious captives — 
intermingling wool, silver, and gold — had repre- 
sented various scenes in the history of the gods 
and heroes: Ixion embracing the Cloud; Diana 
surprised in the bath by Actæon ; the shepherd 
Paris as judge in the contest of beauty held upon 
Mount Ida between . Hera, the Snowy-armed, 
Athena of the sea-green eyes, and Aphrodite, 
girded with her magic cestus ; the old men of Troy 
rising to honor Helena as she passed through the 
Skaian gate, a subject taken from one of the 
poems of the blind man of Meles. Others ex- 
hibited in preference scenes taken from the life of 
Heracles the Theban, through flattery to Candau- 
les, himself a Heracleid, being descended from the 
hero through Alcæus. Others contented them- 
selves by decorating the entrances of their dwell- 
ings with garlands and wreaths in token of 
rejoicing. 

Among the multitudes marshaled along the 
way, from the royal house even as far as the gates 
of the city through which the young queen would 
pass on her arrival, conversation naturally turned 
upon the beauty of the bride, whereof the re 


KING CANDAULES. 


225 


nown had spread throughout all Asia ; and upon 
the character of the bridegroom, who, although 
not altogether an eccentric, seemed nevertheless 
one not readily appreciated from the common 
standpoint of observation. 

Nyssia, daughter of the Satrap Megabazus, was 
gifted with marvelous purity of feature and per- 
fection of form — at least such was the rumor 
spread abroad by the female slaves who attended 
her, and a few female friends who had accom- 
panied her to the bath ; for no man could boast of 
knowing aught of Nyssia, save the color of her 
veil and the elegant folds that she involuntarily 
impressed upon the soft materials which robed her 
statuesque body. 

The barbarians did not share the ideas of the 
Greeks in regard to modesty : while the youths of 
Achaia made no scruple of allowing their oil- 
anointed torsos to shine under the sun in the 
stadium, and while the Spartan virgins danced 
ungarmented before the altar of Diana; those of 
Persepolis, Ebactana, and Bactria, attaching more 
importance to chastity of the body than to chastity 
of mind, considered those liberties allowed to the 
pleasure of the eyes by Greek manners as impure 
and highly reprehensible ; and held no woman 
virtuous who permitted men to obtain a glimpse 


226 


KING CANDAULES. 


of more than the tip of her foot in walking, as it 
slightly deranged the discreet folds of a long tunic. 

Despite all this mystery, or rather, perhaps, by 
very reason of this mystery, the fame of Nyssia 
had not been slow to spread throughout all Lydia, 
and become popular there to such a degree that it 
had reached even Candaules, although kings are 
ordinarily the most illy-informed people in their 
kingdoms, and live like the gods in a kind of cloud 
which conceals from them the knowledge of ter- 
restrial things. 

The Eupatridæ of Sardes, who hoped that the 
young king might, perchance, choose a wife from 
their family ; the hetairæ of Athens, of Samos, of 
Miletus and of Cyprus; the beautiful slaves from 
the banks of the Indus; the blonde girls brought 
at a vast expense from the depths of the Cimme- 
rian fogs, were heedful never to utter in the pres- 
ence of Candaules, whether within hearing or 
beyond hearing, a single word which bore any 
relation to Nyssia. The bravest, in a question of 
beauty, recoil before the prospect of a contest in 
which they can anticipate being outrivaled. 

And nevertheless no person in Sardes, or even 
in Lydia, had beheld this redoubtable adversary, 
no person save one solitary being, who from the 
time of that encounter had kept his lips as firmly 


KING CANDAULES. 


227 


closed upon the subject as though Harpocrates, 
the god of silence, had sealed them with his finger; 
and that was Gyges, chief of the guards of Can- 
daules. One day Gyges, his mind filled with vari- 
ous projects and vague ambitions, had been wan- 
dering among the Bactrian hills, whither his 
master had sent him upon an important and secret 
mission : he was dreaming of the intoxication of 
omnipotence, of treading upon purple with san- 
dals of gold, of placing the diadem upon the 
brows of the fairest of women; — these thoughts 
made his blood boil in his veins, and, as though to 
pursue the flight of his dreams, he smote his 
sinewy heel upon the foam- whitened flanks of his 
Numidian horse. 

The weather, at first calm, had changed and 
waxed tempestuous like the warrior’s soul ; and 
Boreas, his locks bristling with Thracian frosts, 
his cheeks puffed out, his arms folded upon his 
breast, smote the rain-freighted clouds with the 
mighty beatings of his wings. 

A bevy of young girls who had been gathering 
flowers in the meadow, fearing the coming storm, 
were returning to the city in all haste, each carry- 
ing her perfumed harvest in the lap of her tunic. 
Seeing a stranger on horseback approaching in the 
distance, they had hidden their faces in their man- 


228 


KING CANDAULES . 


ties, after the custom of the Barbarians ; but at 
the very moment that Gyges was passing by the 
one whose proud carriage and richer habiliments 
seemed to designate her the mistress of the little 
band, an unusually violent gust of wind carried 
away the veil of the fair unknown, and, whirling 
it through the air like a feather, chased it to such 
a distance that it could not be recovered. It was 
Nyssia, daughter of Megabazus, who found her- 
self thus with face unveiled in the presence of 
Gyges, an humble captain of King Candaules’ 
guard. Was it only the breath of Boreas which 
had brought about this accident? or had Eros, 
who delights to vex the hearts of men, amused 
himself by severing the string which had fastened 
the protecting tissue ? However they may have 
been, Gyges was stricken motionless at the sight 
of that Medusa of beauty ; and not till long after 
the folds of Nyssia’s robe had disappeared beyond 
the gates of the city could he think of proceeding 
on his way. Although there was nothing to jus- 
tify such a conjecture, he cherished the belief that 
he had seen the satrap’s daughter ; and that meet- 
ing, which affected him almost like an apparition, 
accorded so fully with the thoughts which were 
occupying him at the moment of its occurrence, 
that he could not help perceiving therein some 


KING CANDAULES. 


229 


tiling fateful and ordained of the gods. In truth 
it was upon that brow that he would have wished 
to place the diadem. What other could be more 
worthy of it \ But what probability was there 
that Gyges would ever have a throne to share ? 
He had not sought to follow up this adventure, 
and assure himself whether it was indeed the 
daughter of Megabazus whose mysterious face had 
been revealed to him by Chance, the great filcher. 
Nyssia had fled so swiftly that it would have been 
impossible for him then to overtake her; and 
moreover, he had been dazzled, fascinated, thun- 
der-stricken, as it were, rather than charmed by 
that superhuman apparition — by that monster of 
beauty ! 

Nevertheless, that image, although seen only in 
the glimpse of a moment, had engraved itself upon 
his heart in lines deep as those which the sculptors 
trace on ivory with tools reddened in the fire. He 
had endeavored, although vainly, to efface it ; for 
the love which he felt for Nyssia inspired him with 
a secret terror. Perfection in such a degree is 
ever awe-inspiring ; and women so like unto god- 
desses could only work evil to feeble mortals; 
they are formed for divine adulteries ; and even 
the most courageous men never risk themselves in 
such amours without trembling. Therefore no 


230 


KING CANDAULES. 


hope had blossomed in the soul of Gyges, over- 
whelmed and discouraged in advance by the sen- 
timent of the impossible. Ere opening his lips to 
ISTyssia, he would have wished to despoil the 
heaven of its robe of stars, — to take from Phoe- 
bus his crown of rays, forgetting that women only 
give themselves to those unworthy of them, and 
that to win their love one must act as though he 
desired to earn their hate. 

From that day the roses of joy no longer 
bloomed upon his cheeks ; by day he was sad and 
mournful, and seemed to wander abroad in soli- 
tary dreaming, like a mortal who has beheld a 
divinity ; at night he w r as haunted by dreams in 
which he beheld Nyssia seated by his side upon 
cushions of purple between the golden griffins of 
the royal throne. 

Therefore Gyges, the only one who could speak 
of his own knowledge concerning Nyssia, having 
never spoken of her, the Sardians w r ere left to 
their own conjectures in her regard ; and their con- 
jectures, it must be confessed, were fantastic and 
altogether fabulous. The beauty of Nyssia, 
thanks to the veils which shrouded her, became a 
sort of myth, a canvas, a poem to which each one 
added ornamentation as the fancy took him. 

“ If report be not false,” lisped a young de- 


KING CANDAULES. 


231 


bauchee from Athens, who stood with one hand 
upon the shoulder of an Asiatic boy, “neither 
Plangon, nor Archianassa, nor Thais can be com- 
pared with this marvelous barbarian ; yet I can 
scarce believe that she equals Theano of Colo- 
phon, from whom I once bought a single night at 
the price of as much gold as she could bear away, 
after having plunged both her white arms up to 
the shoulder in my cedar- wood coffer.” 

“ Beside her,” added a Eupatrid, who pretended 
to be better informed than any other person upon 
all manner of subjects, “ beside her the daughter 
of Ccelus and the Sea would seem but a mere 
Ethiopian servant.” 

“Your words are blasphemy; and although 
Aphrodite be a kind and indulgent goddess, be- 
ware of drawing down her anger upon you.” 

“ By Hercules ! — and that ought to be an oath 
of some weight in a city ruled by one of his de- 
scendants — I can not retract a word of it.” 

“You have seen her, then ? ” 

“No; but I have a slave in my service who 
once belonged to Nyssia, and who has told me a 
hundred stories about her.” 

“Is it true,” demanded in infantile tones an 
equivocal looking woman whose pale-rose tunic, 
painted cheeks, and locks shining with essences 


2 32 


KING CANDAULES. 


betrayed wretched pretensions to a youth long 
passed away, “is it true that Nyssia has two pupils 
in each eye ? It seems to me that must be very 
ugly ; and I can not understand how Candaules 
could fall in love with such a monstrosity, while 
there is no lack, at Sardes and in Lydia, of women 
whose eyes are irreproachable.” 

And uttering these words, with all sorts of 
affected airs and simperings, Lamia took a little 
lignificant peep in a small mirror of cast metal 
which she drew from her bosom, and which en- 
abled her to lead back to duty certain wandering 
curls disarranged by the impertinence of the wind. 

“As to the double pupil, that seems to me noth- 
ing more than an old nurse’s tale,” observed the 
well-informed patrician ; “ but it is a fact that Nys- 
sia’s eyes are so piercing that she can see through 
walls ; lynxes are myopic compared with her.” 

“ How can a sensible man coolly argue about 
such an absurdity ? ” interrupted a citizen, whose 
bald skull, and the flood of snowy beard into 
which he plunged his fingers while speaking, lent 
him an air of preponderance and philosophical 
sagacity. “The truth is that the daughter of 
Megabazus can not naturally see through a wall 
any better than you or I, but the Egyptian priest 
Thoutmosis, who knows so many wondrous secrets, 


KING CANDAULES. 


233 


has given her the mysterious stone which is found 
in the heads of dragons, and whose property, as 
every one knows, renders all shadows and the 
most opaque bodies transparent to the eyes of those 
who possess it. Nyssia always carries this stone 
in her girdle, or else set into her bracelet ; and in 
that may be found the secret of her clairvoyance.” 

The citizen’s explanation seemed the most nat- 
ural one to those of the group whose conversation 
we are endeavoring to reproduce; and the opin- 
ions of Lamia and the patrician were abandoned 
as improbable. 

“At all events,” returned the lover of Theano, 
“we are going to have an opportunity of judging 
for ourselves ; for it seems to me that I hear the 
clarions sounding in the distance ; and, though 
Nyssia is still invisible, I can see the herald yon- 
der approaching with palm-branches in his hands, 
to announce the arrival of the nuptial cortège, and 
make the crowd fall back.” 

At this news, which spread rapidly through the 
crowd, the strong men elbowed their way toward 
the front ranks; the agile boys, embracing the 
shafts of the columns, sought to climb up to the 
capitals and there seat themselves; others, not 
without having skinned their knees against the 
bark, succeeded in perching themselves comfort- 


234 


KING CANDAULES. 


ably enough in the Y of some tree-branch ; the 
women lifted their little children upon their shoul- 
ders, warning them to hold tightly to their necks. 
Those who had the good fortune to dwell on the 
street along which Candaules and Nyssia were 
about to pass leaned over from the summit of their 
roofs, or, rising on their elbows, abandoned for a 
time the cushions upon which they had been 
reclining. 

A murmur of satisfaction and gratified expecta- 
tion ran through the crowd, which had already 
been waiting many long hours ; for the arrows of 
the midday sun were commencing to sting. 

The heavy-armed warriors, with cuirasses of bull’s- 
hide covered with overlapping plates of metal, — 
helmets adorned with plumes of horse-hair dyed 
red, — hnemides or greaves faced with tin, — bal- 
drics studded with nails, — emblazoned bucklers, 
and swords of brass, rode behind a line of trump- 
eters who blew with might and main upon their 
long tubes, which gleamed under the sunlight. 
The horses of these warriors were all white as the 
feet of Thetis, and might have served, by reason 
of their noble paces and purity of breeds, as 
models for those which Phidias at a later day 
sculptured upon the metopes of the Parthenon. 

At the head of this troop rode Gyges, the well- 


KING CANDAULES. 


235 


named, for his name in the Lydian tongue signi- 
fies beautiful. His features, of the most exquisite 
regularity, seemed chiseled in marble, owing to his 
intense pallor, for he had just discovered in Nys- 
sia, although she was veiled with the veil of a 
young bride, the same woman whose face had been 
betrayed to his gaze by the treachery of Boreas 
under the walls of Bactria. 

“ Handsome Gryges looks very sad,” said the 
young maidens. “ What proud beauty could have 
secured his love, or what forsaken one has caused 
some Thessalian witch to cast a spell on him? 
Has that cabalistic ring (which he is said to have 
found hidden within the flanks of a brazen horse 
in the midst of some forest) lost its virtue ; and, 
suddenly ceasing to render its owner invisible, 
have betrayed him to the astonished eyes of some 
innocent husband, who had deemed himself alone 
in his conjugal chamber ? ” 

“ Perhaps he has been wasting his talents and 
his drachmas at the game of Palamedes ; or else 
it may be that he is disappointed at not having 
won the prize at the Olympian games — he had 
great faith in his horse Hyperion.” 

No one of these conjectures was true. A fact 
is never guessed. 

After the battalion commanded by Gryges, there 


236 


KING CANDAULES . 


came young boys crowned with myrtle-wreaths, 
and singing epithalamic hymns after the Lydian 
manner, accompanying themselves upon lyres of 
ivory, which they played with bows: all were 
clad in rose-colored tunics ornamented with a sil- 
ver Greek border; and their long hair flowed down 
over their shoulders in thick curls. 

They preceded the gift-bearers, strong . slaves 
whose half-nude bodies exposed to view such in- 
terlacements of. muscle as the stoutest athletes 
might have envied. 

Upon brancards, supported by two or four men 
or more, according to the weight of the objects 
borne, were placed enormous brazen cratera, chis- 
eled by the most famous artists; — vases of gold 
and silver whose sides were adorned with bas- 
reliefs and whose handles were elegantly worked 
into chimeras, foliage and nude women ; — magnifi- 
cent ewers to be used in washing the feet of illus- 
trious guests; — flagons incrusted with precious 
stones and containing the rarest perfumes ; myrrh 
from Arabia, cinnamon from the Indies, spikenard 
from Persia, essence of roses from Smyrna; — 
kamklins or perfuming pans, with perforated 
covers ; — cedar- wood or ivory coffers of marvelous 
workmanship, w r hich opened with a secret spring 
that none, save the inventor, could find, and which 


KING ÇA ND A U LE S, 


237 


contained bracelets wrought from the gold of 
Ophir, necklaces of the most lustrous pearls, man- 
tle-brooches constellated with rubies and carbun- 
cles ; — toilet boxes containing blonde sponges, curl- 
ing-irons, sea-wolves teeth to polish the nails, the 
green rouge of Egypt, which turns to a most beau- 
tiful pink on touching the skin, powders to darken 
the eyelashes and eyebrows, and all the refine- 
ments that feminine coquetry could invent. Other 
litters were freighted with purple robes of the 
finest linen and of all possible shades from the 
incarnadine hue of the rose to the deep crimson 
of the blood of the grape, — cdlasires of the linen 
of Canopus, which is thrown all white into the 
vat of the dyer, and comes forth again, owing to 
the various astringents in which it had been 
steeped, diapered with the most brilliant colors, — 
tunics brought from the fabulous land of Seres, 
made from the spun slime of a worm which feeds 
upon leaves, and so fine that they might be drawn 
through a finger-ring. 

Ethiopians, whose bodies shone like jet, and 
whose temples were tightly bound with cords, 
lest they should burst the veins of their foreheads 
in the effort to uphold their burthen, carried in 
great pomp a statue of Hercules, the ancestor of 
Candaules, of colossal size, wrought of ivory and 


238 


KING CANDAULES. 


gold, with the club, the skin of the Nemean lion, 
the three apples from the garden of the Hespe- 
rides, and all the traditional attributes of the hero. 

Statues of Venus Urania, and of Venus Geni- 
trix, sculptured by the best pupils of the Sieyon 
school in that marble of Paros, whose gleaming 
transparency seemed expressly created for the 
representation of the ever-youthful flesh of the 
Immortals, were borne after the statue of Her- 
cules, which admirably relieved the harmony and 
elegance of their proportions by contrast with its 
massive outlines and rugged forms. 

A painting by Bularchus, which Candaules had 
purchased for its weight in gold, executed upon 
the wood of the female larch tree, and represent- 
ing the defeat of the Magnesians, evoked univer- 
sal admiration by the beauty of its design, the 
truthfulness of the attitude of its figures, and the 
harmony of its coloring, although the artist had 
only employed in its production the four primitive 
colors: Attic ochre, white, Pontic sinopis , and 
atramentum. The young king loved painting and 
sculpture, even more, perhaps, than well became 
a monarch ; and he had not unfrequently bought 
a picture at a price equal to the ‘annual revenue of 
a whole city. 

Camels and dromedaries, splendidly caparisoned, 


KING CANDAULES. 


239 


with musicians seated on their necks, performing 
upon drums and cymbals, carried the gilded stakes, 
the cords, and the material of the tent designed 
for the use of the queen during voyages and hunt- 
ing parties. 

These spectacles of magnificence would upon 
any other occasion have ravished the people of 
Sardes with delight ; but their curiosity had been 
enlisted in another direction, and it was not with- 
out a certain feeling of impatience that they 
watched this portion of the procession file by. The 
young maidens and the handsome boys, bearing 
flaming torches, and strewing handfuls of crocus 
flowers along the way, hardly attracted any at- 
tention. The idea of beholding Nyssia had pre- 
occupied all minds. 

At last Candaules appeared, riding in a chariot 
drawn by four horses, as beautiful and spirited as 
those of the Sun ; all rolling their golden bits in 
foam, shaking their purple-decked manes, and re- 
strained with great difficulty by the driver, who 
stood erect at the side of Candaules, and was 
leaning back to gain more power on the reins. 

Candaules was a young man full of vigor, and 
well worthy of his Herculean origin. His head 
was joined to his shoulders by a neck massive as 
a bull’s, and almost without a curve; his hair, 


240 


KING CANDAULES. 


black and lustrous, twisted itself into rebellious 
little curls, here and there concealing the circlet of 
his diadem ; his ears, small and upright, were of 
a ruddy hue; his forehead was broad and full, 
though a little low, like all antique foreheads ; his 
eyes full of gentle melancholy, his oval cheeks, his 
chin with its gentle and regular curves, his mouth 
with its slightly parted lips — all bespoke the 
nature of the poet rather than that of the warrior. 
In fact, although he was brave, skilled in all bodily 
exercises, could subdue a wild horse as well as any 
of the Lapithæ, or swim across the current of 
rivers when they descended, swollen with melted 
snow, from the mountains — although he might 
have bent the bow of Odysseus, or borne the 
shield of Achilles, he seemed little occupied with 
dreams of conquest; and war, usually so fasci- 
nating to young kings, had little attraction for 
him. He contented himself with repelling the 
attacks of his ambitious neighbors, and sought not 
to extend his own dominions. He preferred build- 
ing palaces, after plans suggested by himself to the 
architects, who always found the king’s hints of no 
small value ; or to form collections of statues and 
paintings by artists of the elder and later schools. 
He had the works of Telephanes of Sicyon, Clean- 
thes, Ardices of Corinth, Hygiemon, Deinias, 


KING CANDAULES . 


241 


Charmides, Eumarus, and Cimon, some being sim- 
ple drawings, and others paintings in various 
colors or mono-chromes. It was even said that 
Candaules had not disdained to wield with his 
own royal hands — a thing hardly becoming a 
prince — the chisel of the sculptor and the sponge 
of the encaustic painter. 

But why should we dwell upon Candaules ? The 
reader undoubtedly feels like the people of Sardes : 
and it is of Nyssia that he desires .to hear. 

The daughter of Megabazus was mounted upon 
an elephant, with wrinkled skin and immense ears 
which seemed like flags, who advanced with a 
heavy but rapid gait, like a vessel in the midst of 
the wayes. His tusks and his trunk were encir- 
cled with silver rings ; and around the pillars of 
his limbs were entwined necklaces of enormous 
pearls. Upon his back, which was covered with 
a magnificent Persian carpet of striped pattern, 
stood a sort of estrade overlaid with gold finely 
chased, and constellated with onyx stones, carne- 
lians, chrysolites, lapis-lazuli, and girasols; upon 
this estrade sat the young queen, so covered with 
precious stones as to dazzle the eyes of the be- 
holders. A mitre, shaped like a helmet, on which 
pearls formed flower designs and letters after the 
Oriental manner, was placed upon her head ; her 


242 


KING CANDAULES. 


ears, both the lobes and rims of which had been 
pierced, were adorned with ornaments in the form 
of little cups, crescents, and balls; necklaces of 
gold and silver beads which had been hollowed 
out and carved, thrice encircled her neck and de- 
scended with a metallic tinkling upon her bosom ; 
emerald serpents with topaz or ruby eyes coiled 
themselves in many folds about her arms, and 
clasped themselves by biting their own tails. 
These bracelets, were connected by chains of pre- 
cious stones ; and so great was their weight that 
two attendants were required to kneel beside Nys- 
sia, and support her elbows. She was clad in a 
robe embroidered by Syrian workmen with shining 
designs of golden foliage and diamond fruits ; and 
over this she wore the short tunic of Persepolis, 
which hardly descended to the knee, and of which 
the sleeves were slit and fastened by sapphire 
clasps ; her waist was encircled from hip to loins 
by a girdle wrought of narrow material, varie- 
gated with stripes and flowered designs, which 
formed themselves into symmetrical patterns as 
they were brought together by a certain arrange- 
ment of the folds which Indian girls alone know 
how to make. Her trowsers of byssus, which 
the Phoenicians called syndon , were confined at 
the ankles by anklets adorned with gold and sil- 


KING CANDAULES. 


2 43 


ver bells ; and completed tliis toilet so fantastic- 
ally rich and wholly opposed to Greek taste. But, 
alas ! a saffron-colored flammeum pitilessly masked 
the face of Nyssia, who seemed embarrassed, 
veiled though she was, at finding so many eyes 
fixed upon her, and frequently signed to a slave 
behind her to lower the parasol of ostrich plumes 
and thus conceal her yet more from the curious 
gaze of the crowd. 

CandauleS had vainly begged of her to lay aside 
her veil, even for that solemn occasion. The 
young barbarian had refused to pay the welcome 
of her beauty to his people. Great was the dis- 
appointment : Lamia declared that Nyssia dared 
not uncover her face for fear of showing her 
double pupil ; the young libertine remained con- 
vinced that Theano of Colophon was more beauti- 
ful than the queen of Sardes ; and Gyges sighed 
when he beheld Nyssia, after having made her 
elephant kneel down, descend upon the inclined 
heads of Damascus slaves as upon a living ladder, 
to the threshold of the royal dwelling, where the 
elegance of Greek architecture was blended with 
the fantasies and enormities of Asiatic taste. 


CHAPTER IL 


In onr character of poet, we have the right to 
lift the saffron-colored flammeum which concealed 
the young bride; being more fortunate in this 
wise than the Sardians, who after a whole day’s 
waiting were obliged to return to their houses and 
were left, as before, to their own conjectures. 

Nyssia was really far superior to her reputa- 
tion, great as it was. It seemed as though Nature 
in creating her had resolved to exhaust her utmost 
powers, and thus make atonement for all former 
experimental attempts and fruitless essays. One 
would have said that, moved by jealousy of the 
future marvels of the Greek sculptors, she also 
had resolved to model a statue herself, and to 
prove that she was still sovereign mistress in the 
plastic art. 

The grain of snow, the micaceous brilliancy of 
Parian marble, the sparkling pulp of balsamine 
flowers, would render but a feeble idea of the ideal 
substance whereof Nyssia had been formed. That 
flesh, so fine, so delicate, permitted day-light to 
penetrate it, and modeled itself in transparent 
contours, in lines as sweetly harmonious as music 
itself. According to different surroundings it took 

(244) 


KING CANDAULES. 


245 


the color of the sunlight or of purple, like the 
aromal body of a divinity ; and seemed to radiate 
light and life. The world of perfections inclosed 
within the nobly-lengthened oval of her chaste face 
could have been rendered by no earthly art — neither 
by the chisel of the sculptor nor the brush of the 
painter, nor the style of any poet — though it were 
Praxiteles, Apelles, or Mimnernus ; and on her 
smooth brow, bathed by waves of hair amber- 
bright as molten electrum and sprinkled with gold 
filings, according to the Babylonian custom, sat 
as upon a jasper throne the unalterable serenity of 
perfect loveliness. 

As for her eyes, though they did not justify 
what popular credulity said of them, they were 
at least wonderfully strange eyes ; brown eyebrows, 
with extremities ending in points elegant as those 
of the arrows of Eros, and which were joined to 
each other by a streak of henna after the Asiatic 
fashion, and long fringes of silkily-shadowed eye- 
lashes contrasted strikingly with the twin sap- 
phire stars rolling in the heaven of dark silver 
which formed those eyes. The irises of those eyes, 
whose pupils were blacker than atrament, varied 
singularly in shades of shifting color: from sap- 
phire they changed to turquoise, from turquoise 
to beryl, from beryl to yellow amber ; and some- 


246 


KING CANDAULES. 


times, like a limpid lake whose bottom is strewn 
with jewels, they offered, through their incalcula- 
ble depths, glimpses of golden and diamond sands 
upon which green fibrils vibrated and twisted 
themselves into emerald serpents. In those orbs 
of phosphoric lightning the rays of suns extin- 
guished, the splendors of vanished worlds, the 
glories of Olympus eclipsed — all seemed to have 
concentrated their reflections. When contemplat- 
ing them one thought of Eternity, and felt himself 
seized with a mighty giddiness, as though he 
were leaning over the verge of the Infinite. 

The expression of those extraordinary eyes was 
not less variable than their tint. At times their 
lids opened like the portals of celestial dwellings, 
they invited you into Elysiums of light, of azure, 
of ineffable felicity ; they promised you the real- 
ization, ten-fold, a hundred-fold, of all your dreams 
of happiness — as though they had divined your 
soul’s most secret thoughts ; again, impenetrable 
as seven-fold plated shields of the hardest metals, 
they flung back your gaze like blunted and broken 
arrows. With a simple inflexion of the brow, a 
mere flash of the pupil, more terrible than the 
thunder of Zeus, they precipitated you from the 
heights of your most ambitious escalades into 
depths of nothingness so profound that it was 


KING CANDAULES. 


247 


impossible to rise again. Typhon himself who 
writhes under Ætna, could not have lifted the 
mountains of disdain with which they overwhelmed 
you; one felt that though he should live for a 
thousand Olympiads endowed with the beauty of 
the fair son of Latona — the genius of Orpheus — 
the unbounded might of Assyrian kings — the 
treasures of the Cabeirei, the Telchines, and the 
Dactyli, gods of subterranean wealth, he could 
never change their expression to mildness. 

At other times their languishment was so liquidly 
persuasive, their brilliancy and irradiation so pen- 
etrating, that the icy coldness of Nestor and Priam 
would have melted under their gaze, like the wax 
of the wings of Icarus when he approached the 
•flaming zones. For one such glance a man would 
have gladly steeped his hands in the blood of his 
host, scattered the ashes of his father to the four 
winds, overthrown the holy images of the gods, 
and stolen the fire of heaven itself, like the 
sublime thief, Prometheus. 

Nevertheless, their most ordinary expression, it 
must be confessed, was of a chastity to make one 
desperate — a sublime coldness — an ignorance of 
all possibilities of human passion, such as would 
have made the moon-bright eyes of Phoebe or the 
sea-green eyes of Athena appear by comparison 


248 


KING CANDAULES. 


more liquidly tempting than those of a young girl 
of Babylon sacrificing to the goddess Mylitta 
within the cord-circled enclosure of Succoth-Benohl. 
Their invincible virginity seemed to bid love de- 
fiance. 

The cheeks of Nyssia, which no human gaze had 
ever profaned, save that of Gryges on the day when 
the veil was blown away, possessed a youthful 
bloom, a tender pallor, a delicacy of grain and a 
downiness whereof the faces of our women, per- 
petually exposed to sunlight and air, cannot convey 
the most distant idea ; modesty created fleeting 
rosy clouds upon them like those which a drop of 
crimson essence would form in a cup of milk ; and 
when uncolored by any emotion they took a sil- 
very sheen, a warm light, like an alabaster vessel 
illumined by a lamp within. That lamp was her 
charming soul, which exposed to view the trans- 
parency of her flesh. 

A bee would have been deceived by her mouth, 
whose form was so perfect, whose corners were so 
purely dimpled, whose crimson was so rich and 
warm that the gods would have descended from 
their Olympian dwellings in order to touch it 
with lips humid with immortality, but that the 
jealousy of the goddesses restrained their impetu- 
osity. Happy the wind which passed through 


KING CANDAULES. 


249 


that purple and pearl — which dilated those pretty 
nostrils, so finely cut and shaded with rosy tints 
like the mother-of-pearl of the shells thrown by 
the sea on the shore of Cyprus at the feet of 
Venus Anadyomene ! But are there not a multi- 
tude of favors thus granted to things which can 
not understand them ? What lover would not 
wish to be the tunic of his well beloved or the 
water of her bath ? 

Such was Nyssia, if we dare make use of the 
expression after so vague a description of her face. 
If our foggy Northern idioms had the warm lib- 
erty, the burning enthusiasm of the Sir-Hasirim, 
we might, perhaps, by comparisons — awakening 
in the mind of the reader memories of flowers and 
perfumes, of music and sunlight — evoking, by the 
magic of words, all the graceful and charming 
images that the universe can contain, have been 
able to give some idea of Nyssia’s features ; but 
it is permitted to Solomon alone to compare the 
nose of a beautiful woman to the tower of Leba- 
non which looketh toward Damascus. And yet 
what is there in the world of more importance 
than the nose of a beautiful woman ? Had Helen, 
the white Tyndarid, been flat-nosed, would the 
Trojan war have taken place ? And if the pro- 
file of Semiramis had not been perfectly regular, 


250 


KING CANDAULES. 


would she have bewitched the old monarch of 
Nineveh and encircled her brow with the mitre of 
pearls, the symbol of supreme power ? 

Although Candaules had brought to his palace 
the most beautiful slaves from the people of the 
Sorae, of Askalon, of Sogdiana, of the Sacæ, of 
Rhapta, — the most celebrated courtesans from 
Ephesus, from Pergamus, from Smyrna, and from 
Cyprus, he was completely fascinated by the 
charms of Nyssia. Up to that time he had not 
even suspected the existence of such perfection. 

Privileged as a husband to enjoy fully the 
contemplation of this beauty, he found himself 
dazzled, giddy, like one who leans over the edge 
of an abyss, or fixes his eyes upon the sun ; he 
felt himself seized, as it were, with the delirium 
of possession, like a priest drunk with the god 
who fills and moves him. All other thoughts dis- 
appeared from his soul ; and the universe seemed 
to him only as a vague mist in the midst of which 
beamed the shining phantom of Nyssia. His 
happiness transformed itself into ecstacy ; and his 
love into madness. At times his very felicity ter- 
rified him. To be only a wretched king — only 
a remote descendant of a hero who had become 
a god by mighty labors — only a common man 
formed of flesh and bone ; and, without having in 


KING CANDAULES. 


251 


aught rendered himself worthy of it — without 
having even, like his ancestor, strangled some hy- 
dra, or torn some lion asunder — to enjoy a happi- 
ness whereof Zens of the ambrosial hair would 
scarce be worthy, though lord of all Olympus ! 
He felt as it were a shame to thus hoard up for 
himself alone so rich a treasure, — to steal this 
marvel from the world, — to be the dragon with 
scales and claws who guarded the living type of 
the ideal of lovers, sculptors, and poets. All they 
had ever dreamed of in their hope, their melan- 
choly, and their despair, he possessed, — he, Can- 
daules, poor tyrant of Sardes, who had only a few 
wretched coffers filled with pearls, a few cisterns 
filled with gold pieces, and thirty or forty thou- 
sand slaves, purchased or taken in war. 

Candaules’ felicity was too great for him ; and 
the strength which he would doubtless have found 
at his command in time of misfortune was want- 
ing to him in time of happiness. His joy over- 
flowed from his soul like water from a vase placed 
upon the fire ; and in the exasperation of his en- 
thusiasm for Nyssia he had reached the point of 
desiring that she were less timid and less modest ; 
for it cost him no little effort to retain in his own 
breast the secret of such wondrous beauty. 

“ Ah ! ” he would murmur to himself during 


252 


KING CANDAULES . 


the deep reveries which absorbed him at all hours 
that he did not spend at the queen’s side ; “ how 
strange a lot is mine ! ! — I am wretched because 
of that which would make any other husband 
happy. Nyssia will not leave the shadow of the 
gynæceum, and refuses, with barbarian modesty, 
to lift her veil in the presence of any other than 
myself. Yet with what an intoxication of pride 
would my love behold her, radiantly sublime, gaze 
down upon my kneeling people from the summit 
of the royal steps, and, like the rising dawn, ex- 
tinguish all those pale stars who, during the night, 
thought themselves suns ! Proud Lydian women, 
who believe yourselves beautiful, but for Nyssia’s 
reserve you would appear, even to your lovers, as 
ugly as the oblique-eyed and thick-lipped slaves of 
Nahasi and Kush. Were she but once to pass 
along the streets of Sardes with face unveiled, 
you might in vain pull your adorers by the lappet 
of their tunics, for none of them would turn his 
head, or, if he did, it would be to demand your 
name, so utterly would he have forgotten you ! 
They would rush to precipitate themselves be- 
neath the silver wheels of her chariot, that they 
might have even the pleasure of being crushed by 
her, like those devotees of the Indus who pave 
the pathway of their idol with their bodies. 


KING CANDAULES. 


253 


“ And you, 0 goddesses, whom Paris- Alexander 
judged, had Nyssia appeared among you, not one 
of you would have borne away the golden apple 
— not even Aphrodite, despite her cestus and her 
promise to the shepherd-arbiter that she would 
make him beloved by the most beautiful woman 
in the world !..... 

“ Alas ! to think that such beauty is not immor- 
tal, and that years will alter those divine outlines 
— that admirable hymn of forms — that poem whose 
strophes are contours, and which no one in the 
world has ever read or may ever read save myself ; 
to be the sole depositary of so splendid a treasure ! 
If I knew even, by imitating the play of light and 
shadow with the aid of lines and colors, how to 
fix upon wood a reflection of that celestial face ; — 
if marble were not rebellious to my chisel, — how 
well would I fashion in the purest vein of Paros or 
Pentelicus an image of that charming body, which 
would make the proud effigies of the goddesses 
fall from their altars ! And long after, when deep 
below the slime of deluges, and beneath the dust 
of ruined cities, the men of future ages should 
find a fragment of that petrified shadow of Nyssia, 
they would cry : ‘ Behold, how the women of 

this vanished world were formed ! ’ And they 
would erect a temple wherein to enshrine the di- 


254 


KING CANDAULES. 


vine fragment. But I liave naught save a sense- 
less admiration, and a love that is madness ! Sole 
adorer of an unknown divinity, I possess no 
power to spread her worship through the world ! ” 

Thus in Candaules had the enthusiasm of the 
artist extinguished the jealousy of the lover ; — ad 
miration was mightier than love. If in place of 
Nyssia, daughter of the Satrap Megabazus, all im- 
bued with Oriental ideas, he had espoused some 
Greek girl from Athens or Corinth, he would cer- 
tainly have invited to his court the most skillful 
painters and sculptors, and have given them the 
queen for their model, as did afterward Alexander 
his favorite Campaspe, who posed naked before 
Apelles. Such a whim would have encountered 
no opposition from a woman of the land where 
even the most chaste made a boast of having con- 
tributed — some for the back, some for the bosom 
— to the perfection of a famous statue. But 
hardly would the bashful Nyssia consent to unveil 
herself in the discreet shadow of the thalamus ; and 
the earnest prayers of the king really shocked her 
rather than gave her pleasure. The sentiment of 
duty and obedience alone induced her to yield at 
times to what she styled the whims of Candaules. 

Sometimes he besought her to allow the flood 
of her hair to flow over her shoulders in a river of 


KING CANDAULES . 


255 


gold richer than the Pactolus, — to encircle her brow 
with a crown of ivy and linden leaves like a bac- 
chante of Mount Mænalus, — to lie, hardly veiled 
by a cloud of tissue finer than woven wind, upon 
a tiger-skin with silver claws and ruby eyes, — or 
to stand erect in a great shell of mother-of-pearl, 
with a dew of pearls falling from her tresses in 
lieu of drops of sea- water. 

When he had placed himself in the best position 
for observation, he became absorbed in silent con- 
templation ; his hand, tracing vague contours in 
the air, seemed to be sketching the outlines for 
some picture ; and he would have remained thus 
for whole hours, if Nyssia, soon becoming weary 
of her role of model, had not reminded him in 
chill and disdainful tones that such amusements 
were unworthy of royal majesty and contrary to 
the holy laws of matrimony. “It is thus,” she 
would exclaim, as she withdrew, draped to her 
very eyes, into the most mysterious recesses of 
her apartment, “ that one treats a mistress — not a 
virtuous woman of noble blood ! ” 

These wise remonstrances did not cure Candau- 
les, whose passion augmented in inverse ratio to 
the coldness shown him by the queen. And it had 
at last brought him to that point that he could no 
longer keep the secrets of the nuptial couch. A 


256 


KING CANDAULES. 


confidant became as necessary to him as to the 
prince of a modern tragedy. He did not pro- 
ceed, you may feel assured, to fix his choice upon 
some crabbed philosopher of frowning mien, with 
a flood of grey-and-white beard rolling down over 
a mantle in proud tatters ; nor a warrior who could 
talk of nothing save balista, catapults, and scythed 
chariots ; nor a sententious Eupatrid full of coun- 
sels and politic maxims, — but Gyges, whose reputa- 
tion for gallantry caused him to be regarded as a 
connoisseur in regard to women. 

One evening he laid his hand upon his shoulder 
in a more than ordinarily familiar and cordial 
manner ; and after giving him a look of peculiar 
significance he suddenly strode away from the 
group of courtiers, saying in a loud voice : — 

“ Gyges, come and give me your opinion in re- 
gard to my effigy, which the Sicyon sculptors have 
just finished chiseling on the genealogical bas-relief 
where the deeds of my ancestors are celebrated.” 

“O King, your knowledge is greater than that 
of your humble subject ; and I know not how to 
express my gratitude for the honor you do me in 
deigning to consult me,” replied Gyges, with a sign 
of assent. 

Candaules and his favorite traversed several 
halls ornamented in the Hellenic style, where the 


KING CANDAULES. 


25 7 


Corinthian acanthus and the Ionic volute bloomed 
or curled in the capitals of the columns, — where 
the friezes were peopled with little figures in poly 
chromatic plastique representing processions and 
sacrifices; — and they finally arrived at a remote 
portion of the ancient palace whose walls were 
built with stones of irregular form put together 
without cement in the Cyclopean manner. This 
ancient architecture was colossally proportioned 
and weirdly grim. The immeasurable genius of 
the elder civilizations of the Orient was there 
legibly written, and recalled the granite and 
brick debauches of Egypt and Assyria. Some- 
thing of the spirit of the ancient architects of the 
tower of Lylax survived in those thick-set pillars 
with their deep-fluted trunks, whose capitals were 
formed by four heads of bulls, placed forehead to 
forehead, and bound together by knots of serpents 
that seemed striving to devour them, — an obscure 
cosmogonic symbol whereof the meaning was no 
longer intelligible, and had descended into the 
tomb with the hierophants of preceding ages. 
The gates were neither of a square nor rounded 
form ; they described a sort of ogive much resem- 
bling the miter of the Magi, and by their fantastic 
character gave still more intensity to the character 
of the building. 


258 


KING CANDAULES. 


This portion of the palace formed a sort of 
court surrounded by a portico whose architecture 
was ornamented with the genealogical bas-relief to 
which Candaules had alluded. 

In the midst thereof sat Heracles upon a throne, 
with the upper part of his body uncovered, and 
his feet resting upon a stool, according to the rite 
for the representation of divine personages. His 
colossal proportions would otherwise have left no 
doubt as to his apotheosis ; and the archaic rude- 
ness and hugeness of the w T ork, wrought by the 
chisel of some primitive artist, imparted to his 
figure an air of barbaric majesty, a savage grand- 
eur more appropriate, perhaps, to the character 
of this monster-slaying hero than would have been 
the work of a sculptor consummate in his art. 

On the right of the throne were Alcæus, son of 
the hero and of Omphale, Ninus, Belus, Argon, 
the earlier kings of the dynasty of the Heraclei- 
dæ ; — then all the line of intermediate kings, ter- 
minating with Ardys, Alyattes, Meles or Myrsus, 
father of Candaules, and finally Candaules him- 
self. 

All these personages, with their hair braided in. 
to little strings, their beards spirally twisted, their 
oblique eyes, angular attitudes, cramped and stiff 
gestures, seemed to own a sort of factitious life. 


KING CANDAULES. 


259 


due to tlie rays of the setting sun, and the ruddy 
hue which time lends to marble in warm climates. 
The inscriptions in antique characters, graven be- 
side them after the manner of legends, enhanced 
still more the mysterious weirdness of the long 
procession of figures in strange barbarian garb. 

By a singular chance, which Gyges could not 
help observing, the statue of Candaules occupied 
the last available place at the right hand of Her- 
acles ; — the dynastic cycle was closed, and in order 
to find a place for the descendants of Candaules 
it would be absolutely necessaiy to build a new 
portico and commence the formation of a new bas- 
relief. 

Candaules, whose arm still rested on the shoul- 
der of Gyges, walked slowly round the portico in 
silence ; he seemed to hesitate to enter into the 
subject, and had altogether forgotten the pretext 
under which he had led the captain of his guards 
into that solitary place. 

“ What would you do, Gyges,” said Candaules, 
at last breaking the silence which had been grow- 
ing painful to both, “if you were a diver, and 
should bring up from the green bosom of the 
ocean a pearl of incomparable purity and luster, 
and of worth so vast as to exhaust the richest 
treasures of the earth ? ” 


260 


KING CANDAULES. 


"I would inclose it,” answered Gyges, a little 
surprised at tliis brusque question, “in a cedar- 
box overlaid with plates of brass, and I would 
bury it under a detached rock in some desert 
place ; and from time to time, when I should feel 
assured that none could see me, I would go thither 
to contemplate my precious jewel and admire the 
colors of the sky mingling with its nacreous tints.” 

“ And I,” replied Candaules, his eye illuminated 
with enthusiasm, “if I possessed so rich a gem, I 
would enshrine it in my diadem, that I might ex- 
hibit it freely to the eyes of all men, in the pure 
light of the sun, — that I might adorn myself with 
its splendor and smile with pride when I should 
hear it said : 1 Never did king of Assyria or Baby- 

lon, — never did Greek or Trinacrian tyrant possess 
so lustrous a pearl as Candaules, son of Myrsus and 
descendant of Heracles, King of Sardes and of 
Lydia! Compared with Candaules, Midas, who 
changed all things to gold, were only a mendicant 
as poor as Irus.’ ” 

Gyges listened with astonishment to this dis- 
course of Candaules, and sought to penetrate the 
hidden sense of these lyric divagations. The king 
appeared to be in a state of extraordinary excite- 
ment : his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm ; a fever- 
ish rosiness tinted his cheeks ; his dilated nostrils 
inhaled the air with unusual effort. 


KING CANDAULES. 


26 T 

“Well, Gyges,” continued Candaules without 
appearing to notice the uneasiness of his favorite, 
— “I am that diver. Amid this dark ocean of 
humanity, wherein confusedly move so many de- 
fective or misshapen beings, — so many forms in- 
complete or degraded, — so many types of bestial 
ugliness, — wretched outlines of nature’s experi- 
mental essays, — I have found beauty, pure, radiant, 
without spot, without flaw, — the ideal made real, 
the dream accomplished, — a form which no painter 
or sculptor has ever been able to translate upon 
canvas or into marble : — I have found Nyssia ! ” 

“ Although the queen has the timid modesty of 
the women of the Orient, and that no man save hei 
husband has ever beheld her features, Fame, hun- 
dred-tongued and hundred-eared, has celebrated 
her praise throughout the world*” answered Gyges, 
respectfully inclining his head as he spoke. 

“Mere vague, insignificant rumors. They say 
of her, as of all women not actually ugly, that she 
is more beautiful than Aphrodite or Helen ; but 
no person could form even the most remote idea 
of such perfection. In vain have I besought 
Nyssia to appear unveiled at some public festival, 
some solemn sacrifice ; or to show herself for an 
instant leaning over the royal terrace, — bestowing 
upon her people the immense favor of one look, 


262 


KING CANDAULES. 


the prodigality of one profile-view, — more gener- 
ous than the goddesses who permit their wor- 
shipers to behold only pale simulacra of ivory or 
alabaster. She would never consent to that. 
Now there is one strange thing, which I blush to 
acknowledge even to you, dear G-yges : formerly I 
was jealous ; I wished to conceal my amours from 
all eyes, — no shadow was thick enough, — no 
mystery sufficiently impenetrable. Now I can no 
longer recognize myself : I have the feelings neither 
of a lover nor a husband ; — my love has melted 
in adoration like thin wax in a fiery brazier. All 
petty feelings of jealousy or possession have van- 
ished. No : the most finished work that heaven 
has ever given to earth, since the day that Prome- 
theus held the flame under the right breast of the 
statue of clay, can not thus be ke}3t hidden in the 
chill shadow of the gynæceum. Were I to die, 
then the secret of this beauty would forever re- 
main shrouded beneath the somber draperies of 
widowhood ! I feel myself culpable in its con- 
cealment, as though I had the sun in my house, 
and prevented it from illuminating the world. 
And when I think of those harmonious lines, those 
divine contours which I dare scarcely touch with 
a timid kiss, I feel my heart ready to burst, I wish 
that some friendly eye could share my happiness 


KING CANDAULES. 


263 


and, — like a severe judge to whom a picture is 
shown, — recognize after careful examination that 
it is irreproachable, and that the possessor has not 
been deceived by his enthusiasm. Yes : often do 
I feel myself tempted to tear off with rash hand 
those odious tissues; but Nyssia, in her fierce 
chastity, would never forgive me. And still I 
cannot alone endure such felicity : I must have a 
confidant for my ecstacies, an echo which will 
answer my cries of admiration, — and it shall be 
none other than you ! ” 

Having uttered these words, Candaules brusquely 
turned and disappeared through a secret passage. 
Gyges, left thus alone, could not avoid noticing 
the peculiar concourse of events which seemed to 
place him always in Nyssia’s path. A chance had 
enabled him to behold her beauty, though walled 
up from all other eyes ; — among many princes and 
Batraps she had chosen to espouse Candaules, the 
very king he served ; — and, through some strange 
caprice, which he could only regard as fateful, this 
king had just made him, Gyges, his confidant in 
regard to the mysterious creature whom none else 
had approached, and absolutely sought to com- 
plete the work of Boreas on the plain of Bactria ! 
Was not the hand of the gods visible in all these 
circumstances? That specter of beauty, whose 


264 


KING CA ND A ULES. 


veil seemed to be lifted slowly, a little at a time, 
as though to enkindle a flame within him, — was it 
not leading him, without his having suspected it, 
toward the accomplishment of some mighty desti- 
ny ? Such were the questions which Gyges asked 
himself ; but, being unable to penetrate the obscur- 
ity of the future, he resolved to await the course 
of events, and left the Court of Images, where 
the twilight darkness was commencing to pile it- 
self up in all the angles, and to render the effigies 
of the ancestors of Candaules yet more and more 
weirdly menacing. 

Was it a mere effort of light ? or was it rather 
an illusion produced by that vague uneasiness with 
which the boldest hearts are filled by the approach 
of night amid ancient monuments ? As he stepped 
across the threshold, Gyges fancied that he heard 
deep groans issue from the stone lips of the bas- 
reliefs ; and it seemed to him that Heracles was 
making enormous efforts to loosen his granite club. 


CHAPTER III. 


On the following day Candaules again took 
Gyges aside and continued the conversation begun 
under the portico of the Heracleidæ. Having 
freed himself from the embarrassment of broach- 
ing the subject, he freely unbosomed himself to 
his confidant ; and had Nyssia been able to over- 
hear him she might perhaps have been willing to 
pardon his conjugal indiscretions for the sake of 
his passionate eulogies of her charms. 

Gyges listened to all these bursts of praise with 
the slightly constrained air of one who is yet un- 
certain whether his interlocutor is not feigning an 
enthusiasm more ardent than he actually feels, in 
order to provoke a confidence naturally cautious 
to utter itself. Candaules at last said to him in a 
tone of disappointment : “ I see, Gyges, that you 

do not believe me ; you think I am boasting, or 
have allowed myself to be fascinated like some 
clumsy laborer by a robust country girl on whose 
cheeks Hygeia has crushed the gross hues of health ! 
No ! by all the gods ! I have collected within my 
home, like a living bouquet, the fairest flowers 
of Asia and of Greece. I know all that the art 

(265) 


266 


KING CANDAULES . v 


of sculptors and painters lias produced since the 
time of Dædalus, whose statues walked and spoke. 
Linus, Orpheus, Homer, have taught me harmony 
and rhythm: I do not look about me with Love’s 
bandage blindfolding my eyes. I judge of all 
things coolly. The passions of youth never influ- 
ence my admiration ; and when I am as withered, 
decrepit, wrinkled, as Tithonus in his swaddling 
bands, my opinion will be still the same. But I 
forgive your incredulity and want of sympathy. 
In order to understand me fully, it is necessary 
that you should see Nyssia in the radiant bril- 
liancy of her shining whiteness, — free from jeal- 
ous drapery, — even as nature with her own hands 
moulded her in a lost moment of inspiration which 
never can return. This evening I will hide you 
in a corner of the bridal chamber .... you 
shall see her ! ” 

“ Sire ! what do you ask of me ! ” returned the 
young warrior with respectful -firmness. “ How 
shall I, from the depths of my dust, — from the 
abyss of my nothingness, — dare to raise my eyes 
to this sun of perfections, at the risk of remaining 
blind for the rest of my life, or being able to see 
naught but a dazzling specter in the midst of 
darkness ? Have pity on your humble slave, and 
do not compel him to an action so contrary to the 


KING CANDAULES. 


267 


maxims of virtue : — no man should look upon 
what does not belong to him. We know that the 
Immortals always punish those who through im- 
prudence or audacity, surprise them in their divine 
nudity. Nyssia is the loveliest of all women ; you 
are the happiest of lovers and husbands : — Heracles 
your ancestor never found in the course of his 
many conquests aught to compare with your queen. 
If you, the prince of whom even the most skillful 
artists seek judgment and counsel, — if you find 
her incomparable, of what consequence can the 
opinion of an obscure soldier like me be to you ? 
Abandon, therefore, this fantasy, which I presume 
to say is unworthy of your royal majesty ; and of 
which you would repent so soon as it had been 
satisfied.” 

“Listen, Gyges,” returned Candaules; “I per- 
ceive that you suspect me ; you think that I seek 
to put you to some proof; but, by the ashes of 
that funeral pyre whence my ancestor arose a god ! 
I swear to you that I speak frankly and without 
any after-purpose.” 

“ O Candaules, I doubt not of your good faith ; 
your passion is sincere ; — but, perchance, after I 
should have obeyed you, you would conceive a 
deep aversion to me, and learn to hate me for not 
having more firmly resisted your will. You would 


268 


KING CANDAULES. 


seek to take back from these eyes, indiscreet through 
compulsion, the image which you allowed them to 
glance upon in a moment of delirium ; and who 
knows but that you would condemn them to the 
eternal night of the tomb to punish them for re- 
maining open at a moment when they ought to 
have been closed.” 

il Fear nothing; I pledge my royal word that no 
evil shall befall you ! ” 

“ Pardon your slave, if he still dares to offer 
some objection, even after such a promise. Have 
you reflected that what you propose to me is a 
violation of the sanctity of marriage, — a species 
of visual adultery? A woman often lays aside 
her modesty with her garments ;* and once violated 
by a look, without having actually ceased to be 
virtuous, she might deem that she had lost her 
flower of purity. You promise, indeed, to feel no 
resentment against me; but who can insure me 
against the wrath of Nyssia, — she who is so re- 
served and chaste, so apprehensive, fierce and 
virginal in her modesty that she might be deemed 
still ignorant of the laws of Hymen? Should 
she ever learn of the sacrilege which I am about 
to render myself guilty of in deferring to my 
master’s wishes, what punishment would she con- 
demn me to suffer in expiation of such a crime ? 


KING CANDAULES. 


269 

Who could place me beyond the reach of her 
avenging anger ? ” 

“ I did not know you were so wise and prudent,” 
said Candaules, with a slightly ironical smile; 
a but such dangers are all imaginary ; and I shall 
hide you in such a way that Nyssia will never 
know she has been seen by any one except her 
royal husband.” 

Being unable to offer any further defense, Gyges 
made a sign of assent in token of complete sub- 
mission to the king’s will. He had made all the 
resistance in his power; and thenceforward his 
conscience could feel at ease in regard to what- 
ever might happen: besides, by any further op- 
position to the will of Candaules, he would have 
feared to oppose destiny itself, which seemed striv- 
ing to bring him still nearer to Nyssia for some 
grim ulterior purpose into which it was not given 
to him to see further. 

Without actually being able to foresee any re- 
sult, he beheld a thousand vague and shadowy 
images passing before his eyes. That subterranean 
love, so long crouched at the foot of his soul’s 
stairway, had climbed a few steps higher, guided 
by some fitful glimmer of hope: the weight of 
the Impossible no longer pressed so heavily upon 
his breast, — now that he believed himself aided 


270 


KING CANDAULES. 


by the gods. In truth, who would have dreamed 
that the much-boasted charms of the daughter of 
Megabazus would ere long cease to own any mys- 
tery for Gyges ! 

“ Come, Gyges,” said Candaules, taking him by 
the hand, “ let us make profit of the time. Nyssia 
is walking in the garden with her women ; let us 
look at the place, and plan our stratagems for this 
evening.” 

The King took his confidant by the hand and 
led him along the winding ways which conducted 
to the nuptial apartment. The doors of the sleep- 
ing-room were made of cedar planks so perfectly 
put together that it was impossible to discover the 
joints. By dint of rubbing them with wool steeped 
in oil, the slaves had rendered the wood as polished 
as marble: the brazen nails, with heads cut in 
facets, which studded them, had all the brilliancy 
of the purest gold. A complicated system of 
straps and metallic rings, whereof Candaules and 
his wife alone knew the combination, served to 
secure them; for in those heroic ages the lock- 
smith’s art was yet in its infancy. 

Candaules unloosed the knots, made the rings 
slide back upon the thongs, raised with a handle 
which fitted into a mortise, the bar that fastened 
the door from within; and bidding Gyges place 


KING CANDAULES. 


271 


himself against the wall, turned back one of the 
folding doors upon him in such a way as to hide 
him completely ; — yet the door did not fit so per- 
fectly to its frame of oaken beams, all carefully 
polished and put up according to line by a skill- 
ful workman, that the young warrior could not 
obtain a distinct view of the chamber interior 
through the interstices contrived to give room for 
the free play of the hinges. 

Facing the entrance, the royal bed stood upon 
an estrade of several steps, covered with purple 
drapery : columns of chased silver supported the 
entablature, all ornamented with foliage wrought 
in relief, amid which Loves were sporting with 
dolphins; and heavy curtains embroidered with 
gold surrounded it like the folds of a tent. 

Upon the altar of the household gods were 
placed vases of precious metal, pateræ enameled 
with flowers, double-handled cups, and all things 
needful for libations. 

Along the walls, which were faced with planks of 
cedar- wood, marvelously worked, at regular inter- 
vals stood tall statues of black basalt in the con- 
strained attitudes of Egyptian art, each sustain- 
ing in its hand a bronze torch into which a splinter 
of resinous wood had been fitted. 

An onyx lamp, suspended by a chain of silver, 


272 


KING CANDAULES. 


hung from that beam of the ceiling which is 
called the black beam, because more exposed than 
the others to the embrowning smoke. Every 
evening a slave carefully filled this lamp with 
odoriferous oil. 

Near the head of the bed, on a little column, 
hung a trophy of arms, consisting of a visored 
helmet, a ^two-fold buckler made of four bulls’ 
hides and covered with plates of brass and tin, a 
two-edged sword, and several ashen javelins with 
brazen heads. 

The tunics and mantles of Candaules were hung 
upon wooden pegs : they comprised garments both 
simple and double, that is, capable of going twice 
around the body ; — a mantle of thrice-dyed purple, 
ornamented with embroidery representing a hunt- 
ing scene wherein Laconian hounds were pursuing 
and tearing deer ; — and a tunic whereof the mate- 
rial, fine and delicate as the skin which envelopes 
an onion, had all the sheen of woven sun-beams, 
were especially noticeable. Opposite to the tro- 
phy stood an arm-chair inlaid with silver and 
ivory upon which Nyssia hung her garments : its 
seat was covered with a leopard skin more eye- 
spotted than the body of Argus ; and its foot-sup- 
port was richly adorned with open-work carving. 

“I am generally the first to retire,” observed 


KING CANDAULES. 


273 


Candaules to Gyges; “and I always leave this 
door open as it is now : Nyssia, wlio lias invariably 
some tapestry flower to finish, or some order to 
give her women, usually delays a little in joining 
me ; but at last she comes, and slowly takes off — 
one by one, as though the effort cost her dearly — 
and lays upon that ivory chair all those draperies 
and tunics which by day envelope her like mummy- 
bandages. From your hiding place you will be 
able to follow all her graceful movements, admire 
her unrivalled charms, and judge for yourself 
whether Candaules be a young fool prone to vain 
boasting, or whether he does not really possess the 
richest pearl of beauty that ever adorned a diadem.” 

“ O King, I can well believe your words with- 
out such a proof as this,” replied Gyges, stepping 
forth from his hiding place. 

“ When she has laid aside her garments,” con- 
tinued Candaules, without heeding the exclama- 
tion of his confidant, “ she will come to lie down 
with me : — you must take advantage of the moment 
to steal away ; for in passing from the chair to 
the bed she turns her back to the door. Step 
lightly as though you were treading upon ears 
of ripe wheat ; take heed that no grain of sand 
squeaks under your sandals; hold your breath, 
and retire as stealthily as possible. The vestibule 


2;4 


KING CANDAULES. 


is all in darkness ; and the feeble rays of the only 
lamp which remains burning do not penetrate be- 
yond the threshold of the chamber. It is there- 
fore certain that Nyssia can not possibly see you : 
and to-morrow there will be some one in the world 
who can comprehend my ecstacies, and will feel 
no longer astonished at my bursts of admiration. 
But see, the day is almost spent ; the Sun will 
soon water his steeds in the Hesperian waves at 
the further end of the world, and beyond the 
Pillars erected by my ancestors ; — return to your 
hiding place, Gyges; and though the hours of 
waiting may seem long, I can swear by Eros of 
the Golden Arrows that you will not regret hav 
ing waited ! ” 

After this assurance, Candaules left Gyges again 
hidden behind the door. The compulsory quiet 
which the king’s young confidant found himself 
obliged to maintain left him ample leisure for 
thought. His situation was certainly a most extra- 
ordinaiy one. He had loved Nyssia as one loves 
a star : convinced of the hopelessness of the un- 
dertaking, he had made no effort to approach her. 
And nevertheless, by a succession of extraordinary 
events he was about to obtain a knowledge of 
treasures reserved for lovers and husbands only : 
not a word, not a glance had been exchanged be- 


KING CA ND A ULES. 


275 


tween himself and Nyssia, who probably ignored 
the very existence of the one being for whom her 
beauty would so soon cease to be a mystery. Un- 
known to her whose modesty would have naught 
to sacrifice for you, how strange a situation ! — to 
love a woman in secret and find oneself led by 
her husband to the threshold of the nuptial 
chamber, — to have for guide to that treasure the 
very dragon who should defend all approach to 
it, — was there not in all this ample food for aston- 
ishment and wonder at the combination of events 
wrought by destiny ? 

In the midst of these reflections, he suddenly 
heard the sound of footsteps on the pavement. 
It was only the slaves coming to replenish the oil 
in the lamp, throw fresh perfumes upon the coals 
of the MamJdins , and arrange the purple and saf- 
fron-tinted sheepskins which formed the royal 
bed. 

The hour approached, and Gryges felt his heart 
beat faster, and the pulsation of his arteries quicken, 
lie even felt a strong impulse to steal away before 
the arrival of the queen, and, after averring sub- 
sequently to Candaules that he had remained, 
abandon himself confidently to the most extrava- 
gant eulogiums. He felt a strong repugnance — 
(for despite his somewhat free life, Gyges was not 


2 76 


KING CANDAULES. 


without delicacy) — to take by stealth a favor for 
the free granting of which he would gladly have 
paid with his life. The husband’s complicity ren- 
dered this theft more odious in a certain sense ; 
and he would have preferred to owe to any other 
circumstance the happiness of beholding the mar- 
vel of Asia in her nocturnal toilet. Perhaps, in- 
deed, the approach of danger — let us acknowledge, 
as veracious historians — had no little to do with 
his virtuous scruples. Undoubtedly Gyges did 
not lack courage : mounted upon his war-chariot, 
with quiver rattling upon his shoulder, and bow 
in hand, he would have defied the most valiant 
warriors; in the chase he would have attacked 
without fear the Calydon boar or the Nemean 
lion; but — explain the enigma as you will — he 
trembled at the idea of looking at a beautiful 
woman through a chink in a door. Uo one pos- 
sesses every kind of courage. He felt likewise 
that he could not behold Nyssia with impunity. 
It would be a decisive epoch in his life : through 
having obtained but a momentary glimpse of her 
he had lost all peace of mind ; — what then would 
be the result of that which was about to take 
place ? Could life itself continue for him when to 
that divine head which fired his dreams should be 
added a charming body — formed for the kisses of 


KING CANDAULES. 


2 77 


the Immortals? What would become of him 
should he find himself unable thereafter to con- 
tain his passion in darkness and silence as he had 
done till that time? AVould he exhibit to the 
court of Lydia the ridiculous spectacle of an in- 
sane love ? — or would he strive by some extrava- 
gant action to bring down upon himself the dis- 
dainful pity of the queen? Such a result was 
strongly probable, since the reason of Candaules 
himself, the legitimate possessor of Nyssia, had 
been unable to resist the vertigo caused by that 
superhuman beauty, — he, the thoughtless young 
king who till then had laughed at love, and pre- 
ferred pictures and statues before all things. 
These arguments were very rational but wholly 
useless; — for at the same moment Candaules en- 
tered the chamber, and exclaimed in a low but 
distinct voice as he passed the door : — 

“ Patience, my poor Gyges, Nyssia will soon 
come ! ” 

When he saw that he could no longer retreat, 
Gyges, who was but a young man after all, forgot 
every other consideration ; and no longer thought 
of aught save the happiness of feasting his eyes 
upon the charming spectacle which Candaules was 
about to offer him. One can not demand from a 
captain of twenty-five the austerity of a hoary 
philosopher. 


278 


KING CANDAULES. 


At last a low whispering of raiment sweeping 
and trailing over marble, — distinctly audible in 
the deep silence of the night, — announced the 
approach of the queen. In effect it was she : with 
a step as cadenced and rhythmic as an ode, she 
crossed the threshhold of the thalamus ; and the 
wind of her veil with its floating folds almost 
touched the burning cheek of Gyges, who felt 
well nigh on the point of fainting, and found him- 
self compelled to seek the support of the wall: 
but soon recovering from the violence of his emo- 
tions, he approached the chink of the door, and 
took the most favorable position for enabling him 
to lose nothing of the scene whereof he was about 
to be an invisible witness. 

Nyssia advanced to the ivory chair and com- 
menced to detach the pins, terminated by hollow 
balls of gold, which fastened her veil upon her 
head ; and Gyges from the depths of the shadow- 
filled angle where he stood concealed, could ex- 
amine at his ease the proud and charming face of 
which he had before obtained only a hurried 
glimpse ; — that rounded neck, at once delicate and 
powerful, whereon Aphrodite had traced with the 
nail of her little finger, those three faint lines 
which are still at this very day known as the 
“ Necklace of Venus ; ” — that white nape on whose 


KING CANDAULES. 


279 


alabaster surface little wild rebellious curls were 
disporting and entwining themselves ; — those silver 
shoulders, half-rising from the opening of the 
chlamys, like the moon’s disk emerging from an 
opaque cloud. Candaules, half -reclining upon his 
cushions, gazed with fondness upon his wife, and 
thought to himself : “ Now Gyges, who is so cold, 
so difficult to please, and so skeptical, must be al- 
ready half convinced.” 

Opening a little coffer which stood on a table 
supported by one leg terminating in carven lion’s 
paws, the queen freed her beautiful arms from the 
weight of the bracelets and jewelry wherewith 
they had been overburthened during the day, — 
arms whose form and whiteness might well have 
enabled them to compare with those of Hera, 
sister and wife of Zeus, the lord of Olympus. 
Precious as were her jewels, they were assuredly 
not worth the spots which they concealed, and had 
Nyssia been a coquette," one might have well sup- 
posed that she only donned them in order that she 
should be entreated to take them off : the rings 
and chased work had left upon her skin, — fine and 
tender as the interior pulp of a lily, — light rosy 
imprints, which she soon dissipated by rubbing 
them with her little taper-fingered hand, all rounded 
and slender at its extremities. 


280 


KING CANDAULES. 


Then with the movement of a dove trembling 
in the snow of its feathers, she shook her hair, 
which being no longer held by the golden pins, 
rolled down in languid spirals like hyacinth flowers 
over her back and bosom : — thus she remained for 
a few moments ere reassembling the scattered curls 
and finally reuniting them into one mass. It was 
marvelous to watch the blonde ringlets streaming 
like jets of liquid gold between the silver of her 
fingers ; and her arms undulating like swans’ necks 
as they were arched above her head in the act of 
twisting and confining the natural bullion. If you 
have ever by chance examined one of those beauti- 
ful Etruscan vases with red figures on a black 
ground, and decorated with one of those subjects 
which are designated under the title of “Greek 
Toilette,” — then you will have some idea of the 
grace of Nyssia in that attitude which, from the 
age of antiquity to our own era, has furnished such 
a multitude of happy designs for painters and 
statuaries. 

Having thus arranged her coiffure, she seated 
herself upon the edge of the ivory footstool and 
commenced to untie the little bands which fastened 
her buskins. We moderns, owing to our horrible 
system of footgear, — which is hardly less absurd 
than the Chinese shoe, — no longer know what a 


KING CANDAULES . 


281 


foot is. That of Nyssia was of a perfection rare 
even in Greece and antique Asia. The great toe, 
a little apart like the thumb of a bird, — the other 
toes, slightly long, and all ranged in charming 
symmetry, — the nails well shaped and brilliant as 
agates, — the ankles well rounded and supple, — the 
heel slightly tinted with a rosy hue, — nothing was 
wanting to the perfection of the little member. 
The leg attached to this foot, and which gleamed 
like polished marble under the lamp light, was 
irreproachable in the purity of its outlines and the 
grace of its curves. 

Gyges, lost in contemplation, though all the 
while fully comprehending the madness of Can- 
daules, said to himself that had the gods bestowed 
such a treasure upon him he would have known 
how to keep it to himself. 

"Well, Nyssia, are you not coming to sleep with 
me ? ” exclaimed Candaules, seeing that the queen 
was not hurrying herself in the least, and feeling 
desirous to abridge the watch of Gyges. 

"Yes, my dear lord; I will soon be ready,” 
answered Nyssia. 

And she detached the cameo which fastened the 
peplum upon her shoulder : — there remained only 
the tunic to let fall. Gyges, behind the door, felt 
his veins hiss through his temples ; his heart beat 


282 


KING CANDAULES. 


so violently that he feared it must make itself 
heard in the chamber, and to repress its fierce 
pulsations he pressed his hand upon his bosom : — 
and when Nyssia, with a movement of careless 
grace, unfastened the girdle of her tunic, he 
thought his knees would give way beneath him. 

Nyssia — was it an instinctive presentiment? or 
was her skin, virginally pure from profane looks, 
so delicately magnetic in its susceptibility that it 
could feel the rays of a passionate eye though that 
eye was invisible? — Nyssia hesitated to strip her- 
self of that tunic, the last rampart of her modesty. 
Twice or thrice her shoulders, her bosom, and bare 
arms, shuddered with a nervous chill, as though 
they had been suddenly grazed by the wings of a 
nocturnal butterfly, or as though an insolent lip 
had dared to touch them in the darkness. 

At last, seeming to nerve herself for a sudden 
resolve, she doffed the tunic in its turn; and the 
white poem of her divine body suddenly appeared 
in all its splendor — like the statue of a goddess 
unveiled on the day of a temple’s inauguration. 
Shuddering with pleasure the light glided and 
gloated over those exquisite forms, and covered 
them with timid kisses, profiting by an occasion, 
alas, rare indeed ! — the rays scattered through the 
chamber, disdaining to illuminate golden arms, 


KING CANDAULES. 


283 


jeweled clasps, or brazen tripods, all concentrated 
tliemselves upon Nyssia, and left all other objects 
in obscurity. Were we Greeks of the age of 
Pericles, we might at our ease eulogize those beau- 
tiful serpentine lines, — those polished flanks, those 
elegant curves, those breasts which might have 
served as molds for the cup of Hebe ; but modern 
prudery forbids such descriptions, for the pen can 
not find pardon for what is permitted to the chisel ; 
and besides, there are some things which can be 
written of only in marble. 

Candaules smiled in proud satisfaction. With 
a rapid step, — as though ashamed of being so 
beautiful, for she was only the daughter of a man 
and a woman, — Nyssia approached the bed, her 
arms folded upon her bosom ; — but with a sudden 
movement she turned round ere taking her place 
upon the couch beside her royal spouse, and be- 
held through the aperture of the door a gleaming 
eye flaming like the carbuncle of Oriental legend ; 
— for if it were false that she had a double pupil 
and that she possessed the stone which is found in 
the heads of dragons, it was at least true that her 
green glance penetrated darkness like the glaucous 
eye of the cat and tiger. 

A cry, like that of a fawn who receives an arrow 
in her flank while tranquilly dreaming among the 


284 


KING CANDAULES. 


leafy shadows, was on the point of bursting from 
her lips ; yet she found strength to control herself, 
and lay down beside Candaules, cold as a serpent, 
with the violets of death upon her cheeks and lips : 
not a muscle of her limbs quivered ; not a fiber of 
her body palpitated ; and soon her slow, regular 
breathing seemed to indicate that Morpheus had 
distilled his poppy juice upon her eyelids. 

She had divined and comprehended all. 


CHAPTER IT. 


Gryges, trembling and distracted with passion, 
bad retired, following exactly the instructions of 
Candaules ; and if Nyssia, through some unfortu- 
nate chance, had not turned her head ere taking 
her place upon the couch, and perceived him in 
the act of taking flight, doubtless she would have 
remained forever unconscious of the outrage done 
to her charms by a husband more passionate than 
scrupulous. 

Accustomed to the winding corridors of the 
palace, the young warrior had no difficulty in find- 
ing his way out. He passed through the city at a 
reckless pace like a madman escaped from Anticyra, 
and by making himself known to the sentinels who 
guarded the ramparts, he had the gates opened for 
him and gained the fields beyond. His brain 
burned ; his cheeks flamed as with the fires of fever ; 
his breath came hotly panting through his lips : — 
he flung himself down upon the meadow-sod 
humid with the tears of the night ; — and at last 
hearing in the darkness, through the thick grass 
and water-plants the silvery respiration of a Naiad, 
he dragged himself to the spring, plunged his 

(285) 


286 


KING CA ND A ULES. 


hands and arms into the crystal flood, bathed 
his face, and drank several mouthfuls of the water 
in the hope to cool the ardor which was devouring 
him. Any one who could have seen him thus 
hopelessly bending over the spring in the feeble 
starlight would have taken him for Narcissus 
pursuing his own shadow; but it was not of 
himself assuredly that Gyges was enamored. 

The rapid apparition of Nyssia had dazzled his 
eyes like the keen zigzag of a lightning-flash : he 
beheld her floating before him in a luminous whirl- 
wind, and felt that never through all his life could 
he banish that image from his vision. His love 
had grown to vastness ; its flower had suddenly 
burst, like those plants which open their blossoms 
with a clap of thunder. To master his passion 
were henceforth a thing impossible : — as well 
counsel the empurpled waves which Poseidon lifts 
with his trident to lie tranquilly in their bed of 
sand and cease to foam upon the rocks of the 
shore. Gyges was no longer master of himself; 
and he felt a miserable despair, as of a man riding 
in a chariot, who finds his terrified and uncontrol- 
lable horses rushing with all the speed of a furious 
gallop toward some rock-bristling precipice. A 
hundred thousand projects, each wilder than the 
last, whirled confusedly through his brain: he 


KING CA ND A ULES. 


2 87 


blasphemed Destiny; he cursed his mother for 
having given him life, and the gods that they had 
not caused him to be born to a throne ; for then 
he might have been able to espouse the daughter 
of the satrap. 

A frightful agony gnawed at his heart ; — he was 
jealous of the king. From the moment of the 
tunic’s fall at the feet of Nyssia, like the flight of a 
white dove alighting upon a meadow, it had seemed 
to him that she belonged to him, — he deemed, 
himself despoiled of his wealth by Candaules. In 
all his amorous reveries he had never until then 
thought of the husband ; — he had thought of the 
queen only as of a pure abstraction, without rep- 
resenting to himself in fancy all those intimate de- 
tails of conjugal familiarity, so poignant, so bitter 
for those who love a woman in the power of an- 
other. Now he had beheld Nyssia’s blonde head 
bending like a blossom beside the dark head of 
Candaules; — the very thought of it had inflamed 
his anger to the highest degree, although a moment’s 
reflection should have convinced him that things 
could not have come to pass otherwise; and he 
felt growing within him a most unjust hatred 
against his master. The act of having compelled 
his presence at the queen’s dishabille seemed to 
him a barbarous irony, an odious refinement of 


288 


KING CANDAULES. 


cruelty ; for lie did not remember that his love for 
her could not have been known by the king, who 
had sought in him only a confidant of easy morals 
and a connoisseur in beauty. That which he ought 
to have regarded as a great favor affected him like 
a mortal injury for which he was meditating ven- 
geance. While thinking that to-morrow the same 
scene of which he had been a mute and invisible 
witness would infallibly renew itself, his tongue 
• clove to his palate, his forehead became imbeaded 
with drops of cold sweat; and his hand convul- 
sively grasped the hilt of his great double-edged 
sword. 

Nevertheless, thanks to the freshness of the 
night, that excellent counselor, he became a little 
calmer, and returned to Sardes before the morning 
light had become bright enough to enable a few 
early rising citizens and slaves to notice the pallor 
of his brow and the disorder of his apparel : he 
betook himself to his regular post at the palace, 
well suspecting that Candaules would shortly send 
for him ; and, however violent the agitation of hi3 
feelings, he felt he was not powerful enough to brave 
the anger of the king, and could in no way escape 
submitting again to this rôle of confidant, which 
could thenceforth only inspire him with horror. 
Having arrived at the palace, he seated himself 


KING CANDAULES, 


289 


upon the steps of the cypress-paneled vestibule, 
leaned his back against a column, and, under the 
pretext of being fatigued by the long vigil under 
arms, he covered his head with his mantle and 
feigned sleep to avoid answering the questions of 
the other guards. 

If the night had been terrible to Gyges, it had 
not been less so to Nyssia; as she never for an 
instant doubted that he had been purposely hid- 
den there by Candaules. The king’s persistency 
in begging her not to veil so austerely a face 
which the gods had made for the admiration of 
men ; his evident vexation upon her refusal to ap- 
pear in Greek costume at the sacrifices and public 
solemnities ; his unsparing raillery at what he 
termed her Barbarian shyness, — all tended to 
convince her that the young Heracleidhad sought to 
admit some one into those mysteries which should 
remain secret to all : for without his encourage- 
ment, no man could have dared to risk himself in 
an undertaking the discovery of which would 
have resulted in the punishment of a speedy 
death. 

How slowly did the black hours seem to her 
to pass ! — how anxiously did she await the coming 
of dawn to mingle its bluish tints with the yellow 
gleams of the almost exhausted lamp ! It seemed 


290 


KING CANDAULES. 


to lier that Apollo would never mount his char- 
iot again ; and that some invisible hand was sus- 
taining the sand of the hour-glass in air. Though 
brief as any other, that night seemed to her like 
the Cimmerian nights, — six long months of dark- 
ness. 

While it lasted she lay motionless and rigid 
at full length on the very edge of her couch in 
dread of being touched by Candaules. If she 
had not up to that night felt a very strong lovç 
for the son of Myrsus, she had, at least, ever ex- 
hibited toward him that grave and serene tender- 
ness which every virtuous woman entertains for 
her husband, although the altogether Greek free- 
dom of his morals frequently displeased her, and 
though he entertained ideas at variance with her 
own in regard to modesty: but after such an 
affront she could only feel the chilliest hatred and 
most icy contempt for him ; — she would have pre- 
ferred even death to one of his caresses. Such 
an outrage it was impossible to forgive ; for among 
the Barbarians, and above all among the Persians 
and Bactrians, it was held a great disgrace, not for 
women only, but even for men, to be seen with- 
out their garments. 

At length Candaules arose ; and Nyssia, awaking 
from her simulated sleep, hurried from that cham- 


KING CA ND A ULES. 


291 


ber now profaned in lier eyes as thongli it had 
served for the nocturnal orgies of Bacchantes and 
courtesans. It was agony for her to breathe that 
impure air any longer ; and that she might freely 
give herself up to her grief she took refuge in 
the upper apartments reserved for the women; 
summoned her slaves by clapping her hands ; and 
poured ewers of water over her shoulders, her 
bosom, and her whole body, as though hoping by 
this species of lustral ablution to efface the soil 
imprinted by the eyes of Gyges. She would have 
voluntarily torn, as it were, from her body that 
skin upon which the rays shot from a burning 
pupil seemed to have left their traces. Taking 
from the hands of her waiting women the thick 
downy materials which served to drink up the last 
pearls of the bath, she wiped herself with such 
violence that a slight purple cloud rose to the 
spots she had rubbed. 

“In vain,” she exclaimed, letting the damp 
tissues fall, and dismissing her attendants, — “in 
vain would I pour over myself all the waters of 
all the springs and the rivers; — the ocean, with 
all its bitter gulfs, could not purify me. Such a 
stain may be washed out only with blood. Oh ! 
that look, that look ! — it has incrusted itself upon 
me ; it clasps me, covers me, burns me like the 


292 


KING CANDAULES. 


tunic dipped in tlie blood of Nessus; I feel it 
beneath my draperies, like an envenomed tissue 
which nothing can detach from my body ! Now, 
indeed, would I vainly pile garments upon gar- 
ments, select materials the least transparent, and 
the thickest of mantles : I would none the less 
bear upon my naked flesh this infamous robe 
woven by one adulterous and lascivious glance. 
Vainly, since the hour when I issued from the 
chaste womb of my mother, have I been brought 
up in private, enveloped like Isis, the Egyptian 
goddess, with a veil of which none might have 
lifted the hem without paying for his audacity 
with his life ; — in vain have I remained guarded 
from all evil desires, from all profane imaginings, 
unknown of men, virgin as the snow on which the 
eagle himself could not imprint the seal of his 
talons, so loftily does the mountain which it covers 
lift its head in the pure and icy air : the depraved 
caprice of a Lydian Greek has sufficed to make 
me lose in a single instant, without any guilt of 
mine, all the fruit of long years of precaution and 
reserve. Innocent and dishonored, hidden from 
all yet made public to all . . . this is the lot 

to which Candaules has condemned me. Who 
can assure me, that, at this very moment, Gyges is 
not in the act of discoursing upon my charms with 


KING CANDAULES. 


293 


some soldiers at the very threshold of the palace ? 

0 shame ! O infamy ! — two men have beheld me 
naked and yet at this instant enjoy the sweet 
light of the sun ! In what does Nyssia now differ 
from the most shameless hetaira, — from the vilest 
of courtesans ? This body which I have striven 
to render worthy of being the habitation of a pure 
and noble soul, serves for a theme of conversation ; 
— it is talked of like some lascivious idol brought 
from Sicyon or from Corinth ; — it is commended 
or found fault with : the shoulder is perfect, the 
arm is charming, perhaps a little thin, — what know 

1 ? All the blood of my heart leaps to my cheeks 
at such a thought. O beauty, fatal gift of the 
gods ! why am I not the wife of some poor moun- 
tain goatherd of innocent and simple habits? — he 
would not have suborned a goatherd like himself 
at the threshold of his cabin to profane his hum- 
ble happiness ! My lean figure, my unkempt hair, 
my complexion faded by the burning sun, would 
then have saved me from so gross an insult ; and 
my honest homeliness would not have been com- 
pelled to blush. How shall I dare, after the scene of 
this night, to pass before those men, proudly erect 
under the folds of a tunic which has no longer 
aught to hide from either of them : — I should drop 
dead with shame upon the pavement ! Candaules, 


294 


KING CANDAULES . 


Candaules ! I was at least entitled to more respect 
from you ; and there was nothing in my conduct 
which could have provoked such an outrage. Was 
I one of those ones whose arms forever cling like 
ivy to their husbands’ necks, and who seem more 
like slaves bought with money for a master’s pleas- 
ure than free-born women of noble blood? — have 
I ever after a repast sung amorous hymns accom- 
panying myself upon the lyre, with wine-moist 
lips, naked shoulders, and a wreath of roses about 
my hair; or given you cause, by any immodest 
action, to treat me like a mistress whom one shows 
after a banquet to his companions in debauch ? ” 
While Nyssia was thus buried in her grief, great 
tears overflowed from her eyes like rain-drops from 
the azure chalice of a lotus-flower after some storm, 
and rolling down her pale cheeks fell upon her 
fair forlorn hands, languishingly open, like roses 
whose leaves are half-shed ; for no order came from 
the brain to give them activity. The attitude of 
Niobe, beholding her fourteenth child succumb be- 
neath the arrows of Apollo and Diana, was not 
more sadly despairing ; but soon starting from this 
state of prostration, she rolled herself upon the 
floor, rent her garments, covered her beautiful dis- 
heveled hair with ashes, tore her bosom and cheeks 
with her nails amid convulsive sobs, and aban- 


KING CANDAULES. 


295 


doned herself to all the excesses of Oriental grief, 
— the more violently that she had been forced so 
long to contain her indignation, shame, pangs 
of wounded dignity and all the agony that con- 
vulsed her soul ; for the pride of her whole life had 
been broken, and the idea that she had nothing 
wherewith to reproach herself afforded her no 
consolation. As a poet has said, only the inno- 
cent know remorse. She was repenting of the 
crime which another had committed. 

Nevertheless she made an effort to recover her- 
self, ordered the baskets filled with wools of dif- 
ferent colors, and the spindles wrapped with flax 
to be brought to her; and distributed the work 
to her women as she had been accustomed to do : 
but she thought she noticed that the slaves looked 
at her in a very peculiar way, and had ceased to 
entertain the same timid respect for her as before. 
Her voice no longer rang with the same assurance ; 
there was something humble and furtive in hèr 
demeanor : she felt herself interiorly fallen. 

Doubtless her scruples were exaggerated ; and 
her virtue had received no stain from the folly of 
Candaules ; but ideas imbibed with a mother’s 
milk obtain irresistible sway; and the modesty 
of the body is carried by Oriental nations to an 
extent almost incomprehensible to Occidental 


296 


KING CANDAULES. 


races. When a man desired to speak to Nyssia in 
the palace of Megabazus at Bactria, he was obliged 
to do so keeping his eyes fixed upon the ground ; 
and two eunuchs stood beside him, poniard in 
hand, ready to plunge their keen blades through 
his heart should he dare lift his head to look at 
the princess, notwithstanding that her face was 
veiled. You may readily conceive, therefore, how 
deadly an injury the action of Candaules would 
seem to a woman thus brought up, while any other 
would doubtless have considered it only a cul- 
pable frivolity. Thus the idea of vengeance had 
instantly presented itself to Nyssia, and had given 
her sufficient self-control to strangle the cry of 
her offended modesty ere it reached her lips, at 
the moment when, turning her head, she beheld the 
burning eyes of Gryges flaming through the dark- 
ness. She must have possessed the courage of the 
warrior in ambush, who, wounded by a random 
dart, utters no syllable of pain through fear of 
betraying himself behind his shelter of foliage 
or river-reeds ; and in silence permits his blood to 
stripe his flesh with long red lines. Had she not 
withheld that first impulse to cry aloud, Candau- 
les, alarmed and forewarned, would have kept 
upon his guard, which must have rendered it more 
difficult, if not impossible, to carry out her pur- 
pose. 


KING CA ND A U LE S. 


29 7 


Nevertheless, as yet she had conceived no defi- 
nite plan ; but she had resolved that the insult 
done to her honor should be fully expiated. At 
first she had thought of killing Candaules herself 
while he slept, with the sword hung at the bed- 
side. But she recoiled from the thought of dip- 
ping her beautiful hands in blood ; she feared lest 
she might miss her blow ; and, with all her bitter 
anger, she hesitated at so violent and unwomanly 
an act. 

Suddenly she appeared to have decided upon 
some project : She summoned Statira, one of the 
waiting women who had come with her from 
Bactria, and in whom she placed much confidence ; 
and whispered a few words close to her ear in a 
very low voice, although there were no other per- 
sons in the room, as if she feared that even the 
walls might hear her. 

Statira bowed low, and immediately left the 
apartment. 

Like all persons who are actually menaced by 
some great peril, Candaules presumed himself per- 
fectly secure. He was certain that Gyges had 
stolen away unperceived ; and he thought only 
upon the delight of conversing with him about 
the unrivaled attractions of his wife. 

So he caused him to be summoned, and con- 
ducted him to the Court of the Heracleidæ. 


298 


KING CANDAULES. 


“ Well, Gyges!” lie said to him with laughing 
mien, “ I did not deceive you when I assured you 
that you would not regret having passed a few 
hours behind that blessed door \ Am I right ? 
Do you know of any living woman more beauti- 
ful than the queen ? If you know of any superior 
to her, tell me so frankly ; and go bear her in my 
name this string of pearls, the symbol of power.” 

“ Sire,” replied Gyges in a voice trembling with 
emotion, “ no human creature is worthy to com- 
pare with Nyssia : it is not the pearl fillet of queens 
which should adorn her brows, but only the starry 
crown of the Immortals.” 

“ I well knew that your ice must melt at last in 
the fires of that sun ! — Now you can comprehend 
my passion, my delirium, my mad desires ? — Is it 
not true, Gyges, that the heart of a man is not 
great enough to contain such a love ? — It must 
overflow and diffuse itself.” 

A hot blush overspread the cheeks of Gyges, 
who now but too well comprehended the admira- 
tion of Candaules. 

The king noticed it, and said, with a manner 
half smiling, half serious : 

“ My poor friend, do not commit the folly of 
becoming enamored of Nyssia; you would lose 
your pains : it is a statue which I have enabled 
you to see, — not a woman. I have allowed you 


KING CANDAULES. 


299 


to read some stanzas of a beautiful poem, where- 
of I alone possess the manuscript, merely for the 
purpose of having your opinion : that is all ! ” 

“You have no need, Sire, to remind me of my 
nothingness. Sometimes the humblest slave is 
visited in his slumbers by some radiant and lovely 
vision, with ideal forms, nacreous flesh, ambrosial 
hair. I, — I have dreamed with open eyes ; — you 
are the god who sent me that dream.” 

“Now,” continued the king, “it will scarcely 
be necessary for me to enjoin silence upon you : if 
you do not keep a seal upon your lips you might 
learn to your cost that Nyssia is not as good as 
she is beautiful.” 

The king waved his hand in token of farewell 
to his confidant, and retired for fhe purpose of in- 
specting an antique bed sculptured by Ikmalius, 
a celebrated artisan, which had been offered him 
for purchase. » 

Candaules had scarcely disappeared when a 
woman, wrapped in a long mantle so as to leave 
but one of her eyes exposed, after the fashion of 
the Barbarians, came forth from the shadow of a 
column behind which she had kept herself hidden 
during the conversation of the king and his favor- 
ite ; walked straight to Gyges ; placed her finger 
upon his shoulder, and made a sign to him to 
follow her. 


CHAPTER Y. 


Statira, followed by Gyges, paused before a lit- 
tle door, of which she raised the latch by pulling 
a silver ring attached to a leathern strap, and com- 
menced to ascend a staiiway with rather high steps 
contrived in the thickness of the wall. At the 
head of the stairway was a second door, which 
she opened with a key wrought of ivory and 
brass. As soon as Gyges entered, she disappeared 
without any further explanation in regard to what 
was expected of him. 

The curiosity of Gyges was mingled with un- 
easiness : he could form no idea as to the signifi- 
cance of this mysterious message. He had a vague 
fancy that he could recognize in the silent Iris one 
of Nyssia’s women ; and the way by which she 
had made him follow her led to the queen’s apart- 
ments. He asked himself in terror whether he 
had been perceived in his hiding-place or betrayed 
by Candaules ; for both suppositions seemed prob- 
able. 

At the idea that Nyssia knew all, he felt his 
face bedewed with a sweat alternately burning 
and icy : he sought to fly ; but the door had been 

(300) 


KING CANDAULES . 


301 


fastened upon him by Statira, and all escape was 
cut off ; then he advanced into the chamber, which 
was shadowed by heavy purple hangings, — and 
found himself face to face with Nyssia. He thought 
he beheld a statue rise before him, such was her 
pallor. The hues of life had abandoned her face ; 
a feeble rose-tint alone animated her lips ; on her 
tender temples a few almost imperceptible veins 
intercrossed their azure net-work ; tears had swol- 
len her eyelids, and left shining furrows upon the 
down of her cheeks ; the chrysoprase tints of her 
eyes had lost their intensity. She was even more 
beautiful and touching thus. Sorrow had given 
soul to her marmorean beauty. 

Her disordered robe, scarcely fastened to her 
shoulders, left visible her beautiful bare arms, her 
throat, and the commencement of her death-white 
bosom. Like a warrior vanquished in his first 
conflict, her beauty had laid down its arms. Of 
what use to her would have been the draperies 
which conceal form, — the tunics with their care- 
fully fastened folds ? Did not Gyges know her ? 
Wherefore defend what has been lost in advance? 

She walked straight to Gyges ; and fixing upon 
him an imperial look, clear and commanding, said 
to him, in a quick, abrupt voice : 

“ Do not lie ; seek no vain subterfuges ; have at 


302 


KING CANDAULES. 


least tlie dignity and courage of your crime : I 
know all ; — I saw you ! — Not a word of excuse : I 
would not listen to it. — Candaules himself con- 
cealed you behind the door. Is it not so the thing 
happened? And you fancy, doubtless, that it is 
all over? Unhappily I am not a Greek woman, 
pliant to the whims of artists and voluptuaries. 
Nyssia will not serve for anyone’s toy. There are 
now two men, one of whom is a man too much 
upon the earth: — he must disappear from it Î 
Unless he dies, I can not live. It will be either 
you or Candaules: I leave you master of the 
choice. Kill him, avenge me, and win by that 
murder both my hand and the throne of Lydia ; 
or else shall a prompt death henceforth prevent 
you from beholding, through a cowardly complai- 
sance, what you have not the right to look upon. 
He who commanded is more culpable than he 
who has only obeyed ; and moreover, should you 
become my husband, no one will have ever seen 
me without having the right to do so. But make 
your decision at once ; for two of those four eyes 
in which my nudity has reflected itself must be- 
fore this very evening be forever extinguished.” 

This strange alternative, proposed with a terrible 
coolness, with an immutable resolution, so utterly 
surprised Gyges, who was expecting reproaches, 


KING CA NBA [/LES. 


303 


menaces, and a violent scene, that he remained 
for several minutes without color and without 
voice, livid as a Shade on the shores of the black 
rivers of hell. 

“ I ! — to dip my hands in the blood of ray master ! 
Is it indeed you, O Queen, who demand of me 
so great a penalty ? I comprehend all your anger ; 
I feel it to be just ; and it was not my fault that 
this outrage took place : but you know that Kings 
are mighty ; they descend from a divine race. 
Our destinies repose on their august knees ; and 
it is not we, feeble mortals, who may hesitate at 
their commands. Their will overthrows our re- 
fusal, as a dyke is swept away by a torrent. By 
your feet that I kiss, by the hem of your robe 
which I touch as a suppliant, be clement ! — for- 
get this injury, which is known to none, and which 
shall remain eternally buried in darkness and 
silence ! Candaules worships you, admires you ; 
and his fault springs only from an excess of love.” 

“ Were you addressing a sphinx of granite in 
the arid sands of Egypt, you would have more 
chance of melting her. The winged words might 
fly uninterruptedly from your lips for a whole 
olympiad ; — you could not move my resolution in 
the slightest. A heart of brass dwells in this 
marble breast of mine .... Die or kill ! — When 


304 


KING CANDAULES. 


the sunbeam which has passed through the cur- 
tains shall touch the foot of this table, let your 
choice have been made .... I wait.” 

And Nyssia crossed her arms upon her breast 
in an attitude replete with somber majesty. 

To behold her standing erect, motionless and 
pale, her eyes fixed, her brows contracted, her hair 
in disorder, her foot firmly placed upon the pave- 
ment, one would have taken her for Nemesis de- 
scended from her griffin, and awaiting the hour to 
smite a guilty one. 

“ The shadowy depths of Hades are visited by 
none with pleasure,” answered Gyges : “ it is 
sweet to enjoy the pure light of day: and the 
heroes themselves who dwell in the Fortunate 
Isles would gladly return to their native land. 
Each man has the instinct of self-preservation; 
and, since blood must flow, let it be rather from 
the veins of another than from mine.” 

To these sentiments, avowed by Gyges with an- 
tique frankness, were added others more noble 
whereof he did not speak : — he was desperately 
in love with Nyssia, and jealous of Candaules. 
It was not, therefore, the fear of death alone that 
had induced him to undertake this bloody task. 
The thought of leaving Candaules in free posses- 
sion of Nyssia was insupportable to him; and, 


KING CANDAULES. 


305 


moreover, the vertigo of fatality had seized him. 
By a succession of irregular and terrible events 
he beheld himself hurried toward the realization 
of his dreams ; a mighty wave had lifted him and 
borne him on in despite of his efforts; Nyssia 
herself was extending her hand to him, to help him 
to ascend the steps of the royal throne : all this 
had caused him to forget that Candaules was his 
master and his benefactor; — for none can flee 
from Fate, and Necessity walks on with nails in 
one hand and whip in the other, to stop your ad- 
vance or to urge you forward. 

“It is well,” replied Nyssia; “here is the means 
of execution.” And she drew from her bosom a 
Bactrian poniard, with a jade handle enriched with 
inlaid circles of white gold. “ This blade is not 
made of brass, but with iron difficult to work, 
tempered in flame and water, so that Hephaistos 
himself could not forge one more keenly pointed 
or finely edged. It would pierce, like thin papy- 
rus, metal cuirasses and bucklers of dragon’s skin. 

“ The time,” — she continued with the same icy 
coolness, — “ shall be while he slumbers. Let him 
sleep and wake no more ! ” 

Her accomplice, Gryges,. harkened to her words 
with stupefaction ; for he had never thought he 
could find such resolution in a woman who could 
not bring herself to lift her veil. 


30 6 


KING CA ND A ULES. 


“ The ambuscade shall be laid in the very same 
place where the infamous one concealed you in 
order to expose me to your gaze. At the approach 
of night I shall turn back one of the folding doors 
upon you, undress myself, lie down ; and when he 
shall be asleep I will give you a signal .... 
Above all things, let there be no hesitancy, no 
feebleness ; and take heed that your hand does 
not tremble when the moment shall have come ! 
And now, for fear lest you might change your 
mind, I propose to make sure of your person un- 
til the fatal hour; — You might attempt to escape, 
— to forewarn your master : do not think to do 
so !” 

Nyssia whistled in a peculiar way ; and immedi- 
ately, from behind a Persian tapestry embroidered 
with flowers, there appeared four monsters, 
swarthy, clad in robes diagonally striped, which 
left visible arms muscled and gnarled as trunks 
of oaks : their thick pouting lips, the gold rings 
which they wore through the partition of their 
nostrils, their great teeth sharp as the fangs of 
wolves, the expression of stupid servility on their 
faces, rendered them hideous to behold. 

The queen pronounced some words in a lan- 
guage unknown to Gyges — doubtless in Bactrian, 
— and the four slaves rushed upon the young 


KING CANDAULES. 


307 


man, seized him, and carried him away, even as a 
nurse might carry off a child in the fold of her 
robe. 

Now what were Nyssia’s real thoughts ? Had 
she, indeed, noticed Gyges at the time of her meet- 
ing with him near Bactria, and preserved some 
memory of the young captain in one of those 
secret recesses of the heart where even the most 
virtuous women always have something buried ? 
Was the desire to avenge her modesty goaded by 
some other unacknowledged desire ? — and if Gyges 
had not been the handsomest young man in all 
Asia would she have evinced the same ardor in 
punishing Candaules for having outraged the sanc- 
tity of marriage ? That is a delicate question to 
resolve, especially after a lapse of three thousand 
years ; and although we have consulted Herodotus, 
Hephæstion, Plato, Dositheus, Archilochus of 
Paros, Hesychius of Miletus, Ptolomceus, Eupho- 
rion, and all who have spoken either at length or 
in only a few words concerning Candaules, Nyssia, 
and Gyges, we have been unable to arrive at any 
definite conclusion. To pursue so fleeting a shadow 
through so many centuries, under the ruins of so 
many crumbled empires, under the dust of departed 
nations, is a work of extreme difficulty, not to say 
impossibility. 


3°8 


KING CANDAULES . 


At all events, Nyssia’s resolution was implaca- 
bly taken ; tliis murder appeared to her in the 
light of the accomplishment of a sacred duty. 
Among the barbarian nations every man who has 
surprised a woman in her nakedness is put to 
death. The queen believed herself exercising her 
right; — only, inasmuch as the injury had been 
secret, she was doing herself justice as best she 
could. The passive accomplice would become the 
executioner of the other; and the punishment 
would thus spring from the crime itself. The 
hand would chastise the head. 

The olive-tinted monsters shut Gyges up in an 
obscure portion of the palace, whence it was im- 
possible that he could escape, or that his cries 
could be heard. 

He passed the remainder of the day there in a 
state of cruel anxiety ; accusing the Hours of be- 
ing lame, and again of walking too speedily. The 
crime which he was about to commit, — although 
he was only, in some sort, the instrument of it, 
and though he was only yielding to an irresistible 
influence, — presented itself to his mind in the most 
somber colors. If the blow should miss through 
one of those circumstances which none could fore- 
see ? — if the people of Sardes should revolt and 
seek to avenge the death of the King? Such 


KING CA ND A ULES. 


309 


were the very sensible, though useless reflections 
whiçh Gyges made while waiting to be taken from 
his prison and led to the place whence he could 
only depart to strike his master. 

At last the night unfolded her starry robe in 
the sky ; and its shadow fell upon the city and 
the palace. A light footstep became audible ; a 
veiled woman entered the room, and conducted 
him through the obscure corridors and multiplied 
mazes of the royal edifice with as much confidence 
as though she had been preceded by a slave bear- 
ing a lamp or a torch. 

The hand which held that of Gyges was cold, 
soft, and small ; nevertheless those slender fingers 
clasped it with a bruising force, as the fingers of 
some statue of brass animated by a prodigy would 
have done : the rigidity of an inflexible will be- 
trayed itself in that ever-equal pressure as of a 
vise, — a pressure which no hesitation of head or 
heart came to vary. Gyges, conquered, subju- 
gated, crushed, yielded to that imperious traction, 
as though he were borne along by the mighty arm 
of Fate. 

Alas ! it was not thus he had wished to touch 
for the first time that fair royal hand, which had 
presented the poniard to him, and was leading 
him to murder; for it was Nyssia herself who 


3io 


KING CANDAULES. 


had come for Gyges, to conceal him in the place 
of ambuscade. 

No word was exchanged between the sinister 
couple on the way from the prison to the nuptial 
chamber. 

The queen unfastened the thongs, raised the 
bar of the entrance, and placed Gyges behind the 
folding door as Candaules had done the evening 
previous. This repetition of the same acts, with 
so different a purpose, had something of a lugu- 
brious and fatal character. Vengeance, this time, 
had placed her foot upon every track left by the 
insult : the chastisement and the crime alike fol- 
lowed the same path. Yesterday, it was the turn 
of Candaules ; to-day, it was that of Nyssia : and 
Gyges, accomplice in the injury, was also accom- 
plice in the penalty. He had served the king to 
dishonor the queen ; he would serve the queen to 
kill the king, — equally exposed by the vices of 
the one and the virtues of the other. 

The daughter of Megabazus seemed to feel a 
savage joy, a ferocious pleasure, „ in employing 
only the same means chosen by the Lydian king, 
and turning to account for the murder those very 
precautions which had been adopted for volup- 
tuous fantasy. 

“ You will again this evening see me take off 


KING CA ND A ULES. 


31 1 


these garments which are so displeasing to Can- 
danles. This spectacle should become wearisome 
to you/’ said the queen in accents of bitter irony, 
as she stood on the threshold of the chamber ; — 
“you will end by finding me ugly.” And a sar- 
donic, forced laugh momentarily curled her pale 
mouth ; then, regaining her impassible severity of 
mien, she continued ; “ Do not imagine you will 
be able to steal away this time as you did before ; 
you know my sight is piercing. At the slightest 
movement on your part, I shall awake Candaules ; 
and you know that it will not be easy for you to 
explain what you are doing in the king’s apart- 
ments, behind a door, with a poniard in your 
hand. — Further : my Bactrian slaves, — the copper- 
colored mutes who imprisoned you a short time 
ago, — guard all the issues of the palace, with 
orders to massacre you should you attempt to go 
out. Therefore let no vain scruples of fidelity 
cause you to hesitate. Think that I will make 
you King of Sardes, and that .... I will love 
you if you avenge me. The blood of Candaules 
will be your purple ; and his death will make for 
you a place in that bed.” 

The slaves came according to their custom, to 
change the fuel in the tripod, renew the oil in the 
lamps, spread tapestry and the skins of animals 


312 


KING CANDAULES. 


up ok the royal couch ; and Nyssia hurried into 
the chamber as soon as she heard their footsteps 
resounding in the distance. 

In a short time Candaules arrived all joyous : 
he had purchased the bed of Ikmalius and pro- 
posed to substitute it for the bed wrought after 
the Oriental fashion, which he declared had never 
been much to his taste. He seemed pleased to 
find that ISTyssia had already retired to the nuptial 
chamber. 

“The trade of embroidery, and spindles, and 
needles seems not to have the same attraction 
for you to-day as usual. In fact it is a monoto- 
nous labor to perpetually pass one thread between 
other threads ; and I wonder at the pleasure which 
you seem ordinarily to take in it. To tell the 
truth, I am afraid that some fine day Pallas- Athena, 
on finding you so skillful, will break her shuttle 
over your head as she once did to poor Arachne.” 

“ My lord, I felt somewhat tired this evening, 
and so came down stairs sooner than usual. 
Would you not like before going to sleep to drink 
a cup of black Samian wine mixed with the honey 
of Hymettus ? ” And she poured from a golden 
urn, into a cup of the same metal, the somber- 
colored beverage which she had mingled with the 
soporiferous juice of the nepenthe. 


KING CANDAULES. 


313 


Candaules took the cup by both handles and 
drained it to the last drop ; but the young Herac- 
leid had a strong head, and sinking his elbow in- 
to the cushions of his couch he watched Nyssia 
undressing without any sign that the dust of sleep 
was commencing to gather upon his eyes. 

As on the evening before, Nyssia unfastened 
her hair and permitted its rich blonde waves to 
ripple over her shoulders. From his hiding place 
Gyges fancied that he saw those locks slowly be- 
coming suffused with tawny tints, — illuminated 
with reflections of blood and flame; and their 
heavy curls seemed to lengthen with viperine un- 
dulations, like the hair of the Gorgons and Medusas. 

All simple and graceful as that action was in 
itself, it took from tbe terrible events about to 
transpire a frightful and ominous character, which 
caused the hidden assassin to shudder with terror. 

Nyssia then unfastened her bracelets, but, agi- 
tated as her hands had been by nervous straining, 
they ill served her will. She broke the string of 
a bracelet of beads of amber inlaid with gold, 
which rolled over the floor with a loud noise, caus- 
ing Candaules to reopen his gradually-closing eyes. 

Each one of those beads fell upon the heart of 
Gyges as a drop of molten lead falls upon water. 

Having unlaced her buskins, the queen threw 


314 


KING CANDAULES. 


her upper tunic over the back of an ivory chair. 
This drapery, thus arranged, produced upon Gyges 
the effect of one of those sinister-folding winding 
sheets wherein the dead were wrapped ere being 
borne to the funeral pyre. Every object in that 
room, which had the evening before seemed to him 
one scene of smiling splendor, now appeared to 
him livid, dim, and menacing. The statues of ba- 
salt rolled their eyes and smiled hideously. The 
lamp flickered weirdly ; and its flame dishevelled 
itself in red and sanguine rays like the crest of a 
comet : — far back in the dimly lighted corners 
loomed the monstrous forms of the Lares and 
Lemures. The mantles hanging from their hooks 
seemed animated by a factitious life, and assumed 
a human aspect of vitality; and when Nyssia, 
stripped of her last garment, approached the bed, 
all white and naked as a Shade, he thought that 
Death herself had broken the diamond fetters 
wherewith Hercules of old enchained her at the 
gates of Hell when he delivered Alcestes, and had 
come in person to take possession of Candaules. 

Overcome by the power of the nepenthe- juice, 
the king at last slumbered. Nyssia made a sign 
for Gyges to come forth from his retreat ; and, lay- 
ing her finger upon the breast of the victim, she 
directed upon her accomplice a look so humid, — 


KING CANDAULES. 


315 


so lustrous, — so weighty with languishment, — so 
replete with intoxicating promise, that Gyges, 
maddened and fascinated, sprang from his hiding 
place like the tiger from the summit of the rock 
where it has been crouching, traversed the chamber 
at a bound, and plunged the Bactrian poniard up 
to the very hilt in the heart of the descendant of 
Hercules. The chastity of Nyssia was avenged, 
and the dream of Gyges accomplished. 

Thus ended the dynasty of .the Heracleidæ, after 
having endured for five hundred and five years ; 
and commenced that of the Mermnades in the 
person of Gyges, son of Dascylus. The Sardians, 
indignant at the death of Candaules, threatened 
revolt ; but the oracle of Delphi having declared 
in favor of Gyges, who had sent thither a vast 
number of silver vases and six golden cratera of 
the value of thirty talents, the new king main- 
' lined his seat on the throne of Lydia, which he 
>ccupied for many long years, lived happily, and 
never showed his wife to any one ; knowing too 
well what it cost. 



ADDENDA 


(“One of Cleopatra's Nights .”) 

A. — There is no correct English plural of “necropolis”; — the 
French word nécropole is more normal. As the Greek plural could 
not be used very euphoniously, and as I have tried throughout to 
render an exact English equivalent for each French word when- 
ever comprehensible, I beg indulgence for the illegitimate plural 
“necropoli,” used to signify more than one necropolis, as an 
equivalent for the French nécropoles . 

B. — In the opening scene of “ One of Cleopatra's Nights'' the 
reader may be surprised at the expression “ the chuckling of the 
crocodiles.” Our own Southern alligators often make a little noise 
which could not be better described, — a low, guttural sound, bear- 
ing a sinister resemblance to a human chuckle or subdued, 
sneering laugh. A Creole friend who has lived much in those 
regions of Southern Louisiana intersected by bayous and haunted 
by alligators, comprehended at once the whole force of the term 
rire étouffé as applied to the sounds made by the crocodile. 
“ Je l'ai entendu souvent he said, with a smile. 


(“ Clarimondel'') 

The idea of love after death has been introduced by Gautier 
into several beautiful creations, sometimes Hoffmanesquely, some- 
times with an exquisite sweetness peculiarly his own. Among his 
most touching poems, there is a fantastic, — Les Tâches Jaunes, — so 
remarkable that I cannot refrain from offering a rude translation 

(317) 


3 18 ADDENDA. 


of it. Though transplanted even by a master-hand into the richest 
aoil of another language, such poetical flora necessarily lose some- 
thing of their strange color and magical perfume. In this instance, 
the translator, who is no poet, only strives to convey the beautiful 
weirdness of the original idea : — 

With elbow buried in the downy pillow 
Pve lain and read \ 

A ll through the night , a volume strangely written 
In tongues long dead. 

For at my bedside lie no dabity slippers; 

A nd , , save ?ny own , 

Under the paling lamp I hear no breathing : — 

I am alone ! 

But there are yellow b?'uises on my body 
A nd violet stains ; 

Though no white vatnpire came with lips blood-crimsoned 
To suck my veins / 

Now I bethink me of a sweet weird story , 

That in the dark 

Our dead loves thus with seal of chilly kisses 
Our bodies mark. 

Gliding beneath the coverings of our couches 
They share our rest , 

And with their dead lips sign their loving visit 
On arm and breast. 

Darksome and cold the bed where now she slumbers 
I loved in vain , 

W ith sweet soft eyelids closed \ to be reopened 
Never again . 


ADDENDA . 


319 


Dead sweetheart , ^zzz zV A? thou hast lifted 

With thy frail hand 

Thy coffin-lid \ to come to me again 
From Shadowland ? 

Thou who , one joyous night , didst , pale and speechless 
Pass from us all, 

Dropping thy silken ?nask and gift of flowers 
Amidst the ball ? 

O, fondest of my loves, from that far heaven 
Where thou must be, 

Hast thou returned to pay the debt of kisses 
Thou owest me ? 


(“ Arria Marcella .”) 

Gautier doubtless obtained inspiration for this exquisite romance 
from an old Greek ghost story, first related by Phlegon, the freed- 
man of Hadrian. Versions of it were current in the twelfth and 
sixteenth centuries; and Goëthe reproduced it in his “ Bride of 
Corinth.” We offer a translation from the brief version of Miche- 
let, who accuses Goëthe of bad taste for having introduced the 
Slavic idea of vampirism into a purely Greek story. 

* 

* * 

A young Athenian goes to Corinth to visit the house of the man 
who has promised him his daughter in marriage. He has always 
remained a pagan, and does not know that the family into which 
he hopes to enter has been converted to Christianity. He arrives 
at a very late hour. All are in bed except the mother, who prepares 
a hospitable repast for him, and then leaves him to repose. He 
throws himself upon a couch, overwhelmed with fatigue. Scarcely 
has he closed his eyes, when a figure enters the room : it is a girl, 
all clad in white, with a white veil ; there is a black-and-gold fillet 


320 


ADDENDA. 


about her brows. She beholds him. Astonishment ! Lifting her 
white hand, she exclaims : 

“Am I then such a stranger in the house ? Alas ! poor recluse 
that I am ! But I am ashamed to be here. I shall now depart. 
Repose in peace ! ” 

— “ Nay, remain, beautiful young girl ! Behold ! here are Ceres, 
Bacchus, and, with thee, Love ! Fear not ! be not so pale ! ” 

— “ Ah ! touch me not, young man ! I belong no more to joy. 
Through a vow made by my sick mother, my youth and life are 
fettered forever. The gods have fled away. And now the only 
sacrifices are sacrifices of human victims.” 

— “What! is it thou! — thou, my beloved affianced, betrothed 
to me from childhood ! The oath o&our fathers bound us together 
forever under the benediction of heaven ! O, virgin, be mine ! ” 

— “Nay, friend, nay! — not I. Thou shalt have my young sis- 
ter. If I sigh in my chill prison, thou mayst, at least, while in her 
arms, think of me, of me who pines and thinks only of thee, and 
whom the earth must soon cover again.” 

— “Never! I swear it by this flame, it is the torch of Hymen. 
Thou shalt come with me to my father’s house. Remain, my well- 
beloved ! ” 

For marriage-gift he offers her a cup of gold. She gives him 
her chain ; but prefers a lock of his hair to the cup. 

It is the ghostly hour. She sips with her pale lips the dark 
wine that is the color of blood. Eagerly he drinks after her. He 
invokes Love. She, though her poor heart was dying for it, never- 
theless resists him. But he, in despair, casts himself upon the bed 
and weeps. Then she, flinging herself down beside him, murmurs : 

“Ah ! how much hurt thy pain causes me ! Yet shouldst thou 
touch me, — what horror ! White as snow, cold as ice, alas ! is 
thy betrothed ! ” 

— “ I shall warm thee, love ! come to me ! even thou though 
hadst but this moment left the tomb.” . . . 

Sighs and kisses are exchanged. . . . Love binds and fetters 
them. Tears mingle with happiness. Thirstily she drinks the fire 


ADDENDA. 


321 


of his lips ; her long-congealed blood takes flame with amorous 
madness, — yet no heart beats in her breast. 

But the mother was there ; listening. Sweet vows ; cries of 
plaint and pleasure. “ Hush,” says the bride ; “ I hear the cock 
crow ! Farewell, till to-morrow, after nightfall.” Then adieu, and 
the sound of kisses smothering kisses. 

Indignant, the mother enters. What does she behold! Her 
daughter ! He seeks to hide her — to veil her ! But she disengages 
herself ; and waxing taller, towers from the couch to the roof. 

“ O, mother, mother ! dost thou then envy me my sweet night ? 
dost thou seek to drive me from this warm place ? Was it not 
enough to have wrapped me in the shroud, and borne me so early 
to the tomb ! But there was a power that lifted the stone ! Vainly 
did thy priests hum above my grave. What avail salt and water 
where youth burns ? The earth may not chill love. . . . Thou 
didst promise me to this youth. ... I come to claim my right. 

“Alack ! friend, thou must die. Here thou must pine and wither 
away. I possess thy hair ; to-morrow it shall be white. . . . 
Mother, a last prayer ! Open my black dungeon ; erect a funeral 
pyre ; and let the sweetheart obtain the repose that only flames can 
give. Let the sparks gush out, — let the ashes redden ! We 
return to our ancient gods .” — [ La Sorcière , pages 32-4 ; edition of 
1863. 













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